


T-SHIRT

by frnklyiero



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Childhood Friends, High School, Hurt, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Imported, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Slow Build, Teen Romance, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 11:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 91,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frnklyiero/pseuds/frnklyiero
Summary: "Hey Randy, sorry to bother you but could you lend me a shirt?""Who's Randy?"How one awkward moment in the school shower room led to more awkward moments between Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie.A Ryden AU fanfiction.





	1. 0

**Author's Note:**

> this work was imported from my wattpad. no part of this story may be reproduced without permission from me.
> 
> also, you may have noticed the absence of gifs, which i have always used in my fics except for lumos. this is because i chose not to import them along with the fics.
> 
> there have been no changes to the fic prior to posting. everything you read here are as it was the last time it was seen on wattpad.

The day Brendon Urie, one of the members of the school soccer team, decided to ask me to lend him a t-shirt was the day I was fairly certain that the boy himself wasn't as much of distant figure as I thought he was.

If only he had gotten my name right, then I would've lent him my favorite  _Anxiety! At the Club_  t-shirt.

Patrick told me I was being stupid for correcting him.

Ray said I should reconsider my life options for not lending him my shirt.

Even Josh had displayed his disappointment in me by smacking me upside the head.

Honestly, I didn't see the point of kissing up to Brendon just because he was higher up on the social ladder than I was - or any of my friends, for that matter - when he was such an asshole in reality. There wasn't anything particularly  _great_  about him and I would've preferred that that time he spoke to me would be the last.

Unfortunately the universe seemed bent on throwing us both into awkward situations until we managed to reconcile with each other over an event that happened years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fair warning to those of you who have read this fic before and are rereading this again (for whatever reason) please do not spoil the story.
> 
> Everyone deserves the opportunity to enjoy the story without spoilers.
> 
> If you do not heed this warning, I will have to delete your comment.
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> Also, please do not stay up to finish this fic. You need your rest more than you need to finish this story.


	2. playlist

[we are broken by paramore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcckFDk9RQo)

[always by panic! at the disco](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWiRW0uJKk4)

[happier by ed sheeran](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8TpcBDJZsJA)

[fun by coldplay ft tove lo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYpgsSEasXw)

[why try by ariana grande](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iIsOvdlgNA)

[stomach tied in knots by sleeping with sirens](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RF19aKuF2qQ)

[oceans by frank iero and the patience](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jD-cApWvDSI)

[millennia (acoustic) by crown the empire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7QvhU4C03k)

[sun and moon by jon walker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0U5zE8hZUp0)


	3. 1

Ironically, my iPod just had to choose the right moment to play Anxiety! At The Club's  _Ready To Go_  when I was trapped in the usual morning congestion of vehicles on the way to school. It didn't help that the upbeat rhythm and melody of the song was at odds with my unusually grumpy mood that morning.

Even the lead vocalist was singing too cheerily for my liking at that moment.

My fingers drummed on the steering wheel as I scowled at the car in front of me, mentally cursing myself for oversleeping. What was I thinking when I practically stayed up till 4 in the morning to finish listening to all of Your Catalytic Relationship's albums while I worked on my charcoal sketch of my friend, Ray Toro?

Probably nothing, considering the fact that drinking at least one can of energy drink made my mind focus all its attention on one task and disregard everything else.

I scrubbed the back of my hand across my face in attempts to rub off the exhaustion off my features and glanced at the rearview mirror. I had forgotten to wear eyeliner, much to my annoyance when I noticed.

Once I managed to squeeze my way out of the nearly stationary traffic jam, I drove all the way to school like the devil was on my tail. Screeching into a halt into the nearest available parking space, which was the furthest away from the school building, I was swearing under my breath as I turned the ignition off, snatched my bag from the backseat and hopped out of the car before locking it.

Running all the way to the edifice, I was panting and sweating by the time I had reached the admin area to collect my late slip. The receptionist gave me strange looks but I was too worried about how my homeroom teacher, Mrs Oakley, would react upon my arrival. It wasn't fair that she had heaped upon me high expectations - such a being punctual 24/7 of the time - since I was the only student in the year, besides Vic Fuentes and Hayley Williams, who had a knack for English Literature.

Once again, I had to run to the end of the block of the building to get to the classroom. I didn't bother depositing any books in my locker so I had to lug everything in my backpack all the way to class. It took some brief explaining to Mrs Oakley as to why I was late before I was handed a trip to the detention room and was allowed to take a seat.

However when I reached my usual spot at the back of the room, my chair was taken by a pair of sunglasses. I glanced at Nate Ruess who sat beside my desk. "Your Ray-Bans are rad." I said.

He looked up from his phone which was carefully hidden from Mrs Oakley's view by laying it flat against the page. "Thanks."

"As much as it looks nice on my chair, could you take it away?"

He mumbled his apologies and removed his sunglasses at once. Dropping my backpack on the ground, I plopped down on my seat and retrieved my notebook. Since Mrs Oakley wasn't teaching much except reminding us techniques to understanding the meaning of Shakespearian works, my pen scratched against the surface of the paper as I attempted to draw my homeroom teacher lecturing in the front.

 

"I swear to God, these shorts are the worst." Ray Toro complained as he looked at himself in the mirror, clad in the school's gym attire. "It makes me look weird." He pouted and took a hairband to tie up his wild mess of curls so that his hair wouldn't get into his eyes during exercise.

"Well, considering the fact that you've been raving on about this for every gym period this year," Patrick Stump began, taking off his cap and placing it in his locker. "We know that Ray." He sighed and tugged his shirt into attempts to hide his tummy.

Josh Dun simply showed his agreement by nodding as he bent down to tie his shoelaces.

I glanced around the boys' locker room while waiting for my friends to finish getting ready for Gym period. For the whole year, I had found it unfair that our lockers were located at the back of the room. It was one thing to be near the bottom of the school social ladder but to place us all far away from others was discriminating.

That and the fact that the all the school sports team - basketball, soccer, baseball and others - always had dibs on the lockers closest to the shower area and the exit.

The sounds of metal lockers being pushed, various conversations, and laughter filled my ears. Out of all of them, one guy's voice was the loudest.

"Aww c'mon, Dallon! Really?"

I bit my lip and saw the members of the school soccer team pass by. Amongst them was Brendon Urie, playfully wrestling his friend, Dallon Weekes on the way out. He didn't so much as glance my way but the message was still clear even though it had been years since we last spoken.

 _Leave me alone_.

I shook my head, clearing my mind of unnecessary thoughts. Once I was sure my friends were all set, we made our way to the soccer field outside, where the sun was beating its heat and glare on everyone's backs. We arrived just as Mr Patterson, our gym teacher, started taking the attendance.

He looked like he was in the age group of mid-forties although the perpetual scowl that twisted his features made him look older and the hair on the sides of his head that was graying visibly. He had an average built, not too tall and not too short either. I wondered how he managed to keep his toned biceps in shape and not his slightly bulging abdomen but I didn't dare question him about it for the fear of being reprimanded. Besides, my arms had the strength that was comparable to noodles and I doubted I would be able to last 50 push-ups.

I fell in line behind Joe Trohman, who was from my art class and seemed to like expressing his feelings online in the form of memes. Once Mr Patterson was finished, he clicked the  _Play_  button of his beat-up boom-box, which looked about as ancient as my grandmother.

Soon, the tune of Kidz Bop began to play as we did the warm-up exercises. I had to resist the urge to make an irritated noise and leave the field.

In my opinion, Kidz Bop was the bane of all good music.

They ruined  _Uma Thurman_  by Fall Down Guys, which was my favorite song from the band's latest album.

"Alright, cupcakes." Mr Patterson spoke up once he decided we were all warmed up. "If you didn't already know, we're gonna play soccer. Two teams. Ok, captains for today are Dallon Weekes and Pete Wentz." He addressed the two boys from the soccer team.

I glanced at Dallon and Pete as they stepped forward to the front. They were an odd pair though - Dallon being tall enough to tower over almost everybody and Pete whose height only reached up to Dallon's chest. Despite the difference in vertical distance, they were both equally talented players of the school soccer team.

"Now, I want you boys to select ten students for your team." Mr Patterson told them firmly. "I don't want any soccer team biases here." He threw a glare to add to the effect. It was lost on the two boys who simply rolled their eyes at him when he turned around. "If any of you aren't selected by the team captains, please take a seat at the bleachers and I'll swap a student to make sure everybody gets their turn."

Dallon and Pete decided who would go first in choosing members for the team by having a game of rock-paper-scissors. Pete won and then proceeded to select. It came as no surprise that he picked a few of the talented soccer players like Taylor York, Spencer Smith, much to Dallon's annoyance.

Then came Dallon's turn and he chose Brendon first, followed by Andy Biersack, some British kid who transferred last year called Oliver Sykes and others. When he picked Josh as the 9th member, I looked about nervously. There were a handful of others who weren't selected yet and I was secretly hoping that I wouldn't be chosen.

As much as I wanted to sit my lazy ass on the bench and watch the game roll out, the odds weren't in my favor when Dallon locked his eyes on mine and narrowed them. "You." He pointed at me and jabbed his thumb behind him where his chosen members stood. "Get in there."

My heart dropped to my stomach as I stared at him with wide disbelieving eyes. "M-Me?" I blurted out when somebody shoved my from behind. Tripping forward, I didn't have time to turn and glare whoever did that because Dallon snapped an irritable reply.

"C'mon dude, we don't have  _all day_."

A few snickers rose from the field, causing my cheeks to warm considerably hotter than the air around me as I joined Dallon's team. I kept my eyes down as Mr Patterson barked orders for the rest to wait at the benches.

"So what's the game plan, Dal?" Brendon asked him when the teams were given time for the huddle, except the non-soccer players stood a little away and caused the gathering to become a group circle.

Dallon smirked at him. "Obviously I'll be the keeper. All school soccer team members, you're playing your respective positions. Um, Biersack, you'll have to take the center midfield position since Oli's playing as the right-back defense. Josh, you'll do left midfield." Then he went about giving everybody their positions when he turned to me.

"What's your name, noodle?"

I blinked. "Me?"

"Yea." He frowned.

"Ross."

"Alright, Rose." Dallon said, completely getting my name wrong. "Since I can't place you in any of the other positions, you'll be the left winger. But don't get in Brendon's way when he's near the goal. Just assist him - that's passing the ball to him near the goal- but don't try to score 'coz I don't want any shots to go wide."

The brunet boy who was supposed to be my right winger watched me for a few moments as the team dispersed to their respective positions on the field before jogging off.

I bit my lip with worry percolating in my chest. I couldn't play in the assigned position. I glanced down at my feet, shaking my head before hurrying to the field.

 

It had only been 20 minutes into the game when the dull ache spread up my left leg. It wasn't that I couldn't tolerate it but it was starting to affect my stride as I ran. Every step seemed to send a jab of the pain shooting up my limb.

I panted hard, trying to focus on the ball that was being dribbled -  _poorly_ , if I might add - by the opposing team's member, Frank Iero instead of my leg. I picked up the pace, running towards him in attempts to perform a tackle.

Frank, who wasn't looking where he was going, was an easy target when I managed to take the ball away from him. He made a startled sound, whirling when I was already dashing ahead. Defenders and midfielders tried to halt my progress but I sidestepped or avoided them.

Past the pulsing of blood in my ears, I heard Dallon shout at me to pass the ball to Brendon. I pushed on instead. It wasn't because I was trying to be passive-aggressive. I didn't want them to doubt or look down on me.

I remembered how they would cast glances at me during gym classes when we had to do running exercises or anything similar to that activity.

And that was when it came.

The unexpected blow.

It was my fault, really, for not paying attention. I was knocked off my feet by a slide-tackle. The sensation of falling forward, followed by the impact of my chest against the field had me sucking in a surprised breath. I didn't feel it at first, until I pushed myself up.

The sharp stab of pain spiking up my leg.

I bit down on my lip, squeezing my eyes shut when I staggered face-first onto the ground again. Vaguely I was aware of hands helping me up an questions as to whether I was alright being asked. The sick feeling of fear washed over me as I stood. Attempting to suck deep breaths was hard when only shallow gasps were being inhaled as I looked at my left leg. It was fine, except for the pain.

"I'm so sorry, Ryan." Pete, who was the person who tackled me, said in a very guilty voice. "I didn't --"

"Alright, break it up!" Mr Patterson barked at the boys who were beginning to crowd around me. "Pete, that was a foul. Yellow card for you. Ross, what's the matter?" His authoritative voice faded into concerned cadences.

I must've worried him because I was trying to breath regularly whilst being bent with my hands on my knees. "I'm fine." I waved him off, lying.

I glanced and caught Brendon saying something I couldn't catch to the Gym teacher.

"No, you're taking a trip to the bench." Mr Patterson said firmly and called for someone else to replace me.

With nothing else I could do for the team, I limped my way over to the benches with my head down. I didn't want to catch their gazes. I knew what they were thinking, anyway.

To them, I would always be the boy with the bad leg.


	4. 2

Ray and Patrick were seated on the benches watching as I approached.

The worried expressions on their faces were visible and though I knew they were concerned about me it made me feel like I was weak. Ray started to get up, followed by Patrick, and they jogged up to me before wrapping their arms around me for support.

"Don't worry, Ry. We got you." Ray said firmly as he and Patrick led me to the benches.

"We saw you play." Patrick handed me a water bottle which I accepted gratefully. "It was going great though. How's your leg?"

"It's  _fine_." I waved off their attempts to help me out as I sipped water from the bottle. I had my bad leg stretched out before me. The throb of the ache was there but it was receding albeit slowly. I needed to keep my mind off it so I decided to talk to my friends. "So what'd I miss at the benches?"

Ray shrugged, sitting back. "Nothing much. Patrick and I just talked about random stuff but our last topic was about that sale at Hot Topic."

I glanced up from rubbing my leg. "What about Hot Topic?" I asked, interested. Hot Topic was one of my favorite places on Earth besides the fridge at home and my room. It was where I usually went shopping for band merchandise, clothes and accessories.

"Remember when you got that  _Anxiety! At The Club_  t-shirt last week? Yea, Patrick was talking about how he saw Pete there that day and how  _attractively_  emo he looked." Ray looked as if he was trying not to laugh at Patrick who was desperately trying to express his protests.

His cheeks were red though. 'I was  _just_  observing." The smaller boy said. "Besides, Ryan was trying out some clothes so what was I to do but wait and stare at my surroundings?"

"You could've looked around the place to see what you like." I suggested with a laugh. "Aww, you're as red as a tomato. Do you have a thing for Pete?" I cooed, nudging him gently in a teasing manner with my elbow.

Patrick's mouth snapped shut as he stared at his shoes with his lower lip sticking out. Immediately I stopped. I knew he was a self-conscious guy and had a few issues with his self-esteem so it was cruel of me to mock him for having feelings for a person who wouldn't have a thought about how he felt.

I bit my lip, mumbling. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's ok." He waved me off but the crack in his strained voice belied him. "I mean, it's not something I should think about too much."

I raised my hand, intending to touch his shoulder in sympathy but decided against it. Since Ray and Patrick had fallen silent, I stared out at the field where the other boys were playing. There was a familiar dull ache of longing pinching my chest.

The boys moved like a team, although their positions were a little off they looked like they enjoyed it. Something I could never do because of my leg. The memory of rain falling in heavy sheets and the smell of wet tarmac invaded my mind, filling me with unwelcome images.

I sighed and took another swig at my water bottle before setting it on the bench. "I feel like going to Hot Topic later after school." I said randomly, wanting to fill the silence so that I wouldn't think too much.

Ray glanced up from his phone. How he managed to smuggle it to the field and not drop it somewhere on the grass or have it confiscated by Mr Patterson, I didn't know. "Didn't you go there last week?"

"I did." I replied. "You wanna tag along?"

He laughed like it was a ridiculous idea, which probably was. "I'll take a rain check." A loud piercing sound of Mr Patterson's whistle interrupted him from saying more words.

"Mr Toro! You're swapping with Mr Smith."

Ray paled visibly at the notion of replacing someone on the field. But how ever much he wanted to argue against it - since he was terrible at soccer - he simply sighed and got up, passing me his phone for safekeeping. Spencer was jogging over, flashing Ray a sheepish smile. "Sorry mate."

"It's alright."

I simply stared after Ray, hoping he wouldn't get trampled by the others. Beside me, Patrick sighed sympathetically. "You think he can last 15 minutes out there? "He forgot to tie his shoelaces."

"Have some faith in him, Trick."

 

I relished in the cool water washing off the day's sweat and heat off my body, exhaling with relief. Since I had gotten in a little later than the others, it was nice finally feeling cleaned. Outside the shower stall I was occupying, the mingling conversations and sounds of metal lockers being opened and closed filled the air besides the smell of soap and sweaty guys.

Pushing away wet strands of hair from my face, I finished washing myself up before turning off the faucet. Still dripping, I turned around to grab my towel and dried myself off before wrapping it around my waist. I stepped out of the stall, finding Kellin Quinn, the guy from my Geography class, outside leaning on the wall across me.

His 'emo-boy' hairstyle looked great, which was quite a feat since most of us had sweated a lot during Gym earlier. He glanced up and his features spread with an impish sort of grin. Though he was no mischief-maker, he was usually found in the detention room.

"Hey Ryan." He greeted, flicking a hand towel playfully at me.

I shot him a smile in return. "Oh, have you seen Jaime? He was supposed to be helping me out for Spanish in the afternoon today and I wanted to remind him in case he forgets."

Kellin shrugged. "Not sure though. Maybe you should ask Vic. I think you'll be able to find them at the music room during lunch."

I nodded and made for my locker. Turning the knob to unlock it, I opened it. I reached for my clothes and put them on before fixing my damp hair in the mirror. There was a flash of movement behind me; I caught his features from the reflection in my mirror but didn't make a move to indicate that I had seen him.

"Hey Randy, sorry to bother you but could you lend me a shirt?"

A frown grew on my face as I heard Brendon deliberately call me with the wrong name. Rolling my eyes, I turned my face sideways. "Who's Randy?" I said, purposely trying to tick him off.

A half-amused smirk played on his lips as his brown eyes gleamed. "Very funny. I was talking to  _you_." He scoffed and crossed his arms over his shirtless chest. His hair, though dry, wasn't styled into his usual quiff; it hung down over his wide forehead.

I went back to fixing my hair in the mirror. "Well, I'm sorry but I've never heard of this Randy figure." I said, not bothering to keep the exasperation out of my sarcastic tone.

"Ryan, I really need a shirt." There was a shift in the way he spoke. He sounded like he was almost pleading ... yet not quite. It was confusing, really. He hesitated, pushing away his hair from his forehead. "The one I wore before gym period got soaked by accident so I have nothing to change into."

"Why don't you ask your friends?" I questioned with a huge scowl.

Brendon shrugged with wide brown eyes in attempts to look innocent. "Oh, gosh,  _I don't know_. Maybe I wouldn't be here after asking all of them whether they have an extra shirt." His brows creased on his forehead. "C'mon Ryan. I need to get to class."

"And why the heck should I care?" I said.

Brendon simply gave me a pleading expression, complete with the wide brown eyes. "Ryan, don't make this personal." He said softly. "I know I've said some things back then but I'm --"

I froze, feeling a lump grow in my throat. He was practically bringing up a topic I had sworn to never think about again. "Please don't  _ever_  mention that." I said with a deadly edge to my tone.

He opened his mouth to apologize but closed it as an afterthought. "Look, Ryan --"

"Don't, Brendon. Just  _don't_."

"I'm sorry I --"

"No, you're really  _not_." I slammed my locker shut, twisted the knob and brushed past him. While I did, I caught his scent: the faint smell of vanilla that clung onto his skin.

It was revolting.

 

"You  _what_?" Ray blurted out in utter shock. "Ryan, how could you do that to Brendon?" Somehow, his voice was audible over the din of dozens of intermingling conversations in the cafeteria.

I shrugged nonchalantly in response, chewing my sandwich in a leisurely manner as I noted the incredulous stares my friends were giving me. I had finished recounting what happened with Brendon earlier. "He's not  _exactly_  a nice person."

Patrick rubbed his hand over his face before shooting me an admonishing glare. Since he was my friend for the longest, besides Josh and Ray, he knew the incident that happened between Brendon and I that caused the rift. I met his eyes with my own defiant gaze, showing that I didn't really care one way or another.

Realizing that it was useless to simply stare me down, Patrick spoke up. "Just because he got your name wrong doesn't mean you should turn him down. Don't be stupid, Ryan. At least he was asking you first instead of snatching it from you."

I rolled my eyes in annoyance before jabbing a straw into a juice box. He didn't know the  _real_  reason I was this bitter towards Brendon; none of them needed to. "Whatever, Daddy Stump."

Josh displayed his disappointment in me by smacking me upside the head. I made an indignant noise, swiveling to scowl at him but he shook his head disapprovingly. "Don't be rude, Ryan. And besides, Brendon didn't push his weight around on you when he asked."

"You need to reconsider your life options." Ray said in between bites of his salad. "I mean, how could you treat a school soccer team player that way?"

"Oh, so now we're kissing up to those self-important jerks?" I demanded trenchantly. Brendon Urie was a touchy subject for me and the fact that my friends wanted me to be nice to him had resentment throbbing hard in my chest, causing my mood to sour immediately. "I don't like Brendon and that doesn't mean you should force me to like him."

Patrick sighed in resignation. "We're  _not_  asking you to  _like_  him." He said placatingly. "We don't want trouble."

"We're near the bottom of the school social ladder and those guys --" Ray gestured at the tables in the corner where all the school sports team - soccer included - sat. "-- they're near the top of the said ladder. If anything happens, like say some rat pisses them off, they have their sneaky ways of getting back tenfold."

"I'm glad you described me as a 'rat' - because that's  _obviously_  how I am in reality - but I don't see how that changes my mind about the how I treated  _Urie_  over there." I scoffed at his name as my eyes slid over to the table where Brendon sat. From where I sat the view of his and his girlfriend's hands intertwined was visible and so was the view of them sucking each others faces off.

I made a disgusted expression and continued chomping ferociously away on my sandwich when Ray realized his mistake of somehow implying that my appearance was similar to that of a rodent.

"No, you're not a rat --"

"I'm done with my sandwich." I interrupted them as I crumpled the brown paper bag that had held my lunch. "I'll be at the library if you guys need me." Ignoring their protests, I made my way out of the noisy area and set towards the library where it was considerably quieter. I walked deserted hallways, occasionally glancing at tacky posters that were stuck on the walls before arriving at my destination.

The near absence of sound was refreshing. Smiling in greeting at the librarian, I found a corner behind the bookshelves in a part of the library where I was certain I wouldn't be disturbed and sat down at one of the tables. Fishing out my iPod, I plugged in my headphones before putting them on.

Letting my music wash over me, I opened a random book that I had chosen on the way to the spot I had chosen and began to read. I was so absorbed that I didn't notice the dirty blonde girl waving her fingerless-gloved hands at me in attempts to grab my attention.

She tapped my hand and moved her lips in the shape of words I couldn't hear. A baffled frown appeared on my face as I removed my headphones. "I'm sorry, what?"

She straightened up and pointed at the seat across me. "Mind if I sit here?"

I nodded, indicating that I didn't mind at all. With a smile, I watched as she sat across me, putting a pile of books down audibly on the table.

The girl had long brown locks but the sides of her head was shaved. She had a badass type of vibe about her and was really pretty. Her eyeliner was on point, accentuating her smoky gray eyes. I was also jealous of how she rocked that Bring Them The Skyline shirt.

"I swear, being a sophomore is hard as fuck." She began talking to me as though we were friends. As if to show her annoyance, she pulled out a few pieces of papers and rolled her eyes. "But I guess I shouldn't be complaining. You seniors have way difficult homework than I do."

"Huh?"

She let out a half-suppressed laugh, eyes twinkling with amusement as she cocked her head. "You know, maybe you should turn the volume of your headphones down a little. You might suffer from hearing loss."

"I'm sorry, I don't know you." I said awkwardly.

She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh but you do. I mean, we know each as high school students."

"I meant like ...  _personally_  know each other."

She shrugged and opened a dusty-looking book. "Well, I guess. I'm Lyndsey Gunnulfsen - a mouthful name - but everybody calls me Lynn." She made a finger gun and pointed it at her temple. "But I like to call myself Gunn." She mimicked the sound of a gunshot and grinned at me before sticking her hand out.

Though I was confused, I shook her hand. "Ryan Ross."

"Awesome." Lynn spread her arms. "Now we're acquainted!"

"Um." I bit my lip, frowning.

"Actually, a friend of mine - and yours - told me to ask you to help me out with Calculus." She let out a sheepish laugh. "He said you're like some Calculus wizard."

"And who  _is_  this friend?" I questioned suspiciously.

She simply smiled.


	5. 3

I was glad Lynn didn't insist on following me home.

While the girl was doing fairly alright at Calculus when I was helping her out during Lunch, she asked persistently whether it was fine with me to tutor her on weekends. Since my social skills around girls left much to be desired, my only response was shrugging and trying not to look like a doofus.

In the end, she scrawled her number in crabbed messy digits on my arm. Ray and Josh had interrogated me during dismissal period about that. They gave me curious looks when I told them the number was Lynn's.

What made me wonder was why she didn't tell me  _who_  her friend was - or my friend for that matter. All the questions about her in my head dissipated the moment I unlocked the front door. A furry creature leapt on me, leaving affectionate yet slobbery licks on my face.

"Alfie, down boy!" I laughed, trying to get the canine off me as I entered. The Alsatian barked in greeting and wagged his tail before padding off to the living room. Making my way to the kitchen, I saw the dirty dishes in the sink and made a mental note to put them in the dishwasher later. As I was taking a peek in the fridge, I heard a soft whine from behind.

Turning around, I saw Alfie with his favorite red ball in his mouth, looking up at me entreatingly. With a small smile, I bent down and patted his head. "Maybe later, boy. Mom's not back from work yet and I've got homework to do."

I set up the stairs to my room, tossing my backpack on my computer chair and made an exhausted sigh before collapsing on my bed. The frame creaked in protest as my weight sank against the mattress. As much as I wanted to take a nap, I had way to many things to do.

Lack of sleep was starting to take a toll on me as I started cleaning up my room, which looked like a devastating hurricane had made its destruction here. My clothes were strewn everywhere, energy bar wrappers littering the floor and pencil shavings scattered on my desk - a result of staying up the night before.

This would not do.

I nearly fell asleep a few times while folding my clothes neatly on my bed. It didn't take me too long, thankfully, until my room was relatively clean. Checking the time in my phone, I was aware that Jaime Preciado was running a little late; a first, considering that the guy himself was always very punctual.

After managing to make my room appear presentable and not cause someone to think I might be breeding nasty crawlies here, I made my way downstairs to put the dirty plates in the dishwasher.

Then I heard the doorbell. After drying my hands on a cloth, I made my way to the front door and opened it. Jaime was standing behind it, visibly guilty that he was late.

"Hola, Ryan." He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. I've known him since the start of high school and the one adjective I could always use to describe his appearance was  _consistent_. His hair was always the same, sticking up like a cute little porcupine and the goofy and cheery-looking features never seemed to lose the usual cheeky expression he usually wore.

I smiled in greeting at him and moved aside, allowing him to enter. As he stepped inside, there was a pattering of paws and the sound of Alfie's collar jangling. The canine appeared round the living room door and wagged his tail excitedly.

"Hello there, you cutie." Jaime laughed, bending down to pat Alfie on the head. Once he was done, he followed me up the stairs to my room. "So Ryan, I was thinking we should try something different for your Spanish revision."

I turned around and plopped on my computer chair, swiveling round on it a few times before taking out my textbook. "Oh?"

Jaime set his backpack neatly on the floor as he took out his glasses from its case and put them on. "Like we should try reciting the sentences."

I groaned inwardly and sighed. "But I prefer doing it on paper."

But the boy wasn't having any of my grumblings; he simply responded with a knowing smile before handing me what I assumed were worksheets. "We  _are_  going to use paper so does that count?" He teased.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Oh Jaime." Then I took a look at the papers he handed me and did a double take. "What  _are_  these?"

Jaime ducked his head. "It's a couple of scripts of scenes from my Mom's favorite telenovelas." He noted my horrified expression with a smirk. "And they're those cheesy romantic scenes too."

I scowled at him. "Jaime, we can't do this."

"Of course we can." He snorted, waving his hand dismissively. "Besides, it's  _one thing_  to learn from a book but it's  _another_  thing to speak the language. Anyway, you'll thank me when the oral exams roll over."

I exhaled, already feeling less motivated to reenact scenes of telenovelas that were most likely too sappy for my emo being to handle. I wasn't particularly wild about the idea of making Jaime's ears bleed from my poor Spanish-speaking skills. "Fine, whatever. Let's get this over with."

"So I'll be Alejandro and you'll be his romantic interest." Jaime said with a triumphant expression. "Now, I'll start with the scene where he pours his heart out to his love. But be warned; I may be able to make you swoon with my Mexican charm." He added with a conspiratorial wink.

"Keep flattering yourself, Jaime."

Once our horrendous Spanish revision session was over, Jaime and I decided to go up to my attic and hang out there.

My mother had the place fixed up so it became kinda like my haunt in the house. The walls were painted in a baby blue shade. Beanbags sat in a corner, next to the bookshelves - Mom thought I would like reading there but I preferred sitting near the window that overlooked the whole yard. There was also a tv here but it was connected to my video game consoles and not the cable network.

Jaime and I were camped out in front of the tv playing FIFA. As I chose the team I wanted to play as, Jaime asked me a question. "So how was Gym today?"

I groaned in annoyance at the thought of it. "Horrendous. I swear I was just looking at the pigeon pecking on the field when Dallon looked at me and thought I wanted to join." I complained, rolling my eyes. "And the worst part was when I hurt my leg, Dallon looked really pissed. I mean it was just a game, c'mon."

Jaime shrugged, sticking out his lower lip. "He comes from a family of really sporty people so it's no wonder he took the game seriously. And he's the soccer team's captain. Anyway, he's actually ok-ish guy if you know him." He said and chose his team on FIFA.

"And I'm assuming this is when he isn't on the pitch."

"Yep."

"Awesome guy." I mumbled, voice dripping with sarcasm as my mind flashed to that brief image of Dallon glaring at me.

We began to play FIFA.

*

Danielle Ross was the strongest woman I knew.

When my father, George Ryan Ross Ⅱ, passed away after succumbing to his injuries sustained in a car accident, she had no one to turn to for help as she struggled to pay off my father's debts and look after a child who had taken his father death very hard. Her family had disowned her for marrying my father and did not even extend a hand to their own kin.

It had taken some time to finally be able to pay off whatever my father owed but that meant I had to spend a couple of years growing up seeing my mother mostly absent from home. It was better now.

Glancing up from chopping the carrots for dinner, I looked at my mother who was searching for the pan. The past had not been kind to her but there she was smiling as though nothing bad had happened to her. Feeling the weight of my gaze, she regarded me with a question on her features. "Is something wrong, dear?"

I shook my head and returned to the carrots. I knew she was still staring at me, gauging whether or not I was lying. Her motherly instincts smelled something was up because she placed her hand on my arm, snapping me from my reverie. In the process, I nicked my finger by accident. I cursed, much to my mother's dismay and hurried to the sink.

"Ryan." She said softly.

I shook my head and checked the wound. "I'm fine, mom." I lied. I didn't want her to worry about my affair; there were more important things to worry about anyway.

She sighed and touched my face. Slowly, I turned my gaze to her. My father used to tell me that I looked more like her than him. As a young boy, I didn't believe him because I wanted to be like my father. Now, I could see it. We had the same straight brown hair, the same brown gaze except my nose resembled that of my father's. I sighed and gently removed her hand. "I'll tell you later at dinner." I promised.

After helping my mother out, I went upstairs to get changed when I thought of what I had said to her.

I wanted to talk to her about Brendon, about how confused I felt when he spoke to me out of the blue and about how my friends were telling me to be nice to him. She'd understand me. But at the same time, I was telling myself that I was overreacting about him. Both of us - actually,  _he_  ended our friendship a long time ago at a painful time I was going through and warned me to never talk to him again.

Things change, I told myself but like the emo idiot I was, a line from Fall Down Guy's song played in my head.

 _Baby, seasons change but people don't_.

Once dinner was ready, I headed to the kitchen and set the table as my mother passed by on the way to the laundry area, the scent of her fruity shampoo trailing after her.

Our meal was spent in silence until I was almost finished eating when my mother spoke up. "You haven't told me what's wrong."

I sighed, jabbing my fork on the carrot slices without much appetite. Sticking out my lower lip, I glanced at her across the table. "I've thought about it and decided that I'm being stupid for being upset about it."

A crease appeared on her forehead. I could see the guilt of leaving me to grow up on my own for the past years driving her to want to know what was going on in my life to make up for lost time. She stared at me, her silence demanding me to speak up.

Once it was too much for me to handle, I broke the quiet by exhaling audibly. "It was ... soccer during Gym period today."

She raised her eyebrow but I saw the alarm in her expression. "What happened?"

I shrugged, turning my gaze from hers. "Someone tackled me and hurt my leg - my bad leg."

She allowed a noise of shock to escape from her mouth as she made as if to rise from her chair.

"But I'm fine now." I lied quickly, not wanting to ruin things. I knew that if she found out who it was who did this,she'd overreact and insist on meeting Pete. "It's alright. It's just a tiny bearable ache. Nothing too serious."

She pursed her lips, regarding me for a few moments before I was award of the signs that she was convinced by me. Inwardly letting out a sigh, I felt relieved that I didn't have to try to talk my protective mother down yet disappointed in myself for not informing her that Brendon on my mind was bothering me.


	6. 4

My mother offered to drive me to school the next morning. While I didn't want to turn down the offer, I knew she had work to attend to and cases to handle at the law firm where she worked. Then again, we didn't really spend a lot of time together so I simply accepted.

"Sure. Just hold on." I answered as I made my sandwich for lunch that day, I gave her a small, tight smile and shook my head. "It's totally fine, Mom. I can manage." I replied when she moved forward to help me out while I was struggling to open the lid a new jar of jam.

"You sure about that, kiddo?" I heard the amusement in her tone. She watched me for a few more moments before I gave up, handing her the jar. She unscrewed the lid with ease and gave it back to me.

"Thanks." I mumbled, both sides of my face warming up considerably in embarrassment. Once I placed my sandwich in its container and put it in my bag, I followed her outside. The car ride to school was slow as morning traffic was relentless and filled with a certain type of pop music I loathed hearing.

My mother didn't sense my discomfort although she turned down the volume to speak. "So how's your leg, honey?"

"Fine." I mumbled, surreptitiously wishing Jason Briggs' annoying asthmatic vocals would shut up for a moment. "Will you be picking me up from school later?"

She pursed her lips in disapproval when the car from another lane overtook her, tapping the steering wheel. "Mm, no. I'll be at the court in the afternoon then I've got to meet with a client in the evening so I won't be home till late at night. Busy day." She sighed and I noted the disappointment in her tone.

I bit my lip, ignoring the pinching sense of regret and guilt for not telling her about what really was bothering me last night. With a sympathetic sigh for her case, I patted her shoulder and said nothing more. Once we managed to crawl our way out of traffic, I was relieved to see the familiar building of my school come into view.

"See ya, Mom." I said when she pulled her car up to the side entrance.

She smiled at me. "Enjoy your day, honey." She called out as I exited the car.

"If only I could." I muttered as her car drove off. From where I stood, I saw Brendon and his friends from the soccer team lingering at the doorway. Taking a deep breath, I put in as much as effort as I could to walk my way, robotically, past them. I kept my head low, not wanting to catch any of their sights.

That was when somebody smacked my arm. I yelped indignantly, snapping up to scowl and probably mouth off whoever did that to me when my gaze met with a pair of gray eyes. Starting in surprise, it took me a moment to recognize her features.

"Lynn?" I frowned at her.

She grinned at me, then at my hand that was rubbing the area where she hit. Her eyes widened with alarm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you that hard! Dammit, I'm such a fucking idiot."

"It's fine." I muttered, glancing past her shoulder. Bad mistake because I caught Brendon's gaze in the process. I averted mine back to Lynn's. "What are you doing here?"

Lynn shrugged, jabbing her finger at a mixed group behind her. "I was telling the volleyball crew that we're having practice later. Ryan, you should totally come."

I gave her a mildly horrified look before trying to cover up my expression. "I'm sorry, but I'm not a sporty kind of dude."

"Really?" She frowned. "But my friend said you used to play for your elementary school."

I wanted to demand who her friend was because the more I thought about it, the more shadier it seemed. Before I could open my mouth to speak my thoughts, she had taken my pause as the end of our conversation and wandered off into the crowd of students. Biting back my annoyance, I was about to look for her when somebody called out.

"Hey um, you're George Ross, right?"

I turned around with a frown. Then looked down saw Pete. My features softened. "Um, that's my Dad's name. I go by Ryan." I said and felt a dull ache in my chest at the mention of my father. "Can I help you?"

The shorter boy nodded, putting his hands in his pocket. His dark, straightened hair fell over his eyes in a way that made me remember how Ray said Pete was emo. He fixated his light brown eyes on mine. "I wanted to apologize again for yesterday."

"Oh, it's alright. I'm fine now, thanks."

He bit his lip and drifted into yet another awkward pause. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to hang out sometime." He let out a nervous laugh. "I have an extra ticket to a gig this Friday and I thought you might want to come."

I raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Pete and I didn't really talk and for him to suddenly ask me to hang out with him made me feel mildly conscious of myself. "Seriously?"

"Yea ..." He shot me an amused grin. "My friend, Mikey, was planning to tag along since he really likes the band - which is post-hardcore, by the way - but he can't because he has some family function to attend to and I don't want to go alone." Noticing that I was silent, I caught the awkwardness in his features. "If you don't want to, it's alright --"

"No. I mean, yea I'd totally come along with you." I laughed, running fingers through my hair. "Just never thought you'd ask me, out of all the people you could've asked."

I was addressing the other students in his year he could've asked but Pete thought I was implying his friends. He glanced back at them then turned around. "Nah, it's not really their cup of tea. Besides, I've seen the posters you have in your locker and figured you liked the type of music I'm into too."

I made a mental note to burn my posters when I had the chance.

"I'll text you the details."

After that, we went our separate ways. Weaving my way through the crowded hallways was a challenge and when I finally made it to my locker, I was relieved that I had put some distance between the bodies and I. Exchanging the stuff I didn't need with the books I needed for the next two periods, I turned to check my eyeliner.

The teachers didn't seem to mind that some of the very few guys amongst the huge population of students wore makeup. Perhaps they did but either they didn't care or understood the supposed 'phase' we were going through. Satisfied with my eyeliner, I closed the locker and jumped when I saw Patrick staring at me from behind it.

"What the --"

The strawberry blond boy cut me off. "I forgot to do my history homework." He said urgently.

I frowned in bafflement. "And?"

"Can I borrow yours? I promise I'll return it during History period --" He broke off abruptly, staring at someone behind me.

Curiously, I glanced back and saw Pete jogging up to me. "Sorry dude. Kinda forgot about it but can I have your number? I forgot to ask earlier." He chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck

I nodded in assent and looked at Patrick who was trying very hard not to stare at his crush. His cheeks were tinted bright red. "Um, yea." I replied, turning back to Pete, who hadn't registered my best friend's presence or his visible awkwardness yet.

As I was handed Pete's phone, I was inputting my number when I noticed Pete, leaning against my locker, looking straight at Patrick. Briefly I wondered if the confident dark-haired boy was checking out the shy strawberry blond.

"Hey, you're Patrick right? Patrick Stump?" Pete spoke up, addressing my friend and I could've sworn I saw the surprise explode on his features.

Patrick pushed his glasses up and nodded. "Um yea." He mumbled in a shaky voice that sounded slightly higher in pitch than normal. "And you're Pete Wentz, the defensive midfielder for the school soccer team."

Pete shrugged nonchalantly like he couldn't care less about his position in the team. "Yea. I remember you."

"You  _do_?" Patrick's blue eyes widened as his cheeks flooded with high color.

"Of course. Yesterday's Gym period, remember? You were the sub for Frank on my team and you stepped on my toes a couple of times." He said with a smile as if recalling a fond memory. "No worries though." He added when Patrick apologized.

I alternated looks between the both of them, biting hard on my lip so not to smirk like an idiot at the both of them. It was difficult, considering the fact that Patrick had a huge crush on Pete, who didn't know.

The strawberry blond simply chuckled with a nervous sound in response. "Uh ... yea."

Pete flashed him a smile as I returned his phone to him, inclining his head before walking away. Once he was out of earshot, I swiveled around to face a dazed Patrick.

"He knows I exist." Patrick murmured, wide-eyes with disbelief. "Can you actually believe that?"

"He talked to you first!" I grinned hugely, patting his shoulder. "That's a good thing!"

"It is?"

"Duh!" I said as we began to walk towards our classrooms. "You should totally talk to him more."

Patrick grinned with a hopeful upward curve of his lips that made my heart swell with pride for him.

*

Soon after History lesson was dismissed, I was relieved to have some time to myself on my free period. Since there was nowhere else for me to go besides the library, I wove through the crowds of students in the hallways before finding myself at my intended destination. Entering, I enjoyed the near silence it offered from the outside.

The librarian was engrossed with the game she was playing on her computer so she didn't really hear me when I accidentally hit my hip on one of the tables and swore profanities aloud. Other students who were present simply shot me pointedly admonishing glares but left me alone.

Finding a quite spot at the back, I reached into my pocket and took out my earbuds and my iPod. Not sure what to do, I decided to listen to Anxiety! At the Club's debut album and laid my head on the table. Two songs later did somebody tap my shoulder urgently.

I had fallen asleep so when I shot up in my seat, the back of my head banged against someone. "SHIT!" I yelped, rubbing the sore spot and scowling at whoever did that.

"What was  _that_  for?" An indignant voice protested from the floor. Looking down to my left, I saw none other than Brendon Urie with a reddened forehead. My heart skipped for a moment and I nearly apologize when I stopped myself.

I was not at all pleased that he woke me up from a dream where I was attending Your Catalytic Relationship's concert. "Why did you wake me up for?" I hissed as he stood up.

Brendon, aggrieved that I was near the point of getting us both into trouble, gestured angrily at the table. "You were fucking  _drooling_. Y'know in that helpless, mouth-open kind of drool."

Heat flooded my cheeks as I glanced back at the table. Sure enough there was a small puddle of my saliva on its surface. Embarrassed, I brought my hand to my mouth and covered it before whipping back to Brendon who was wincing as he tapped his forehead with a finger.

"Do you have any wet tissues?" I asked, barely keeping the annoyance in my tone.

"Do you want the two ply? Does it look like I carry tissues?" Brendon rolled his eyes at me. "You should probably wipe that up with your shirt. Wouldn't you  _love_  to change into that new Anxiety! At The Club t-shirt you bought the other day."

I scowled at him, causing the chair to screech noisily on the floor tile as I stood up. "Well look who's being a salty little cracker."

His dark brown eyes met mine. "You're one to talk. Not wanting to help an old friend out just because of a little fight between us." He snapped at me and I felt a stab of pain in my chest.

"We're  _not_  friends." I growled, grabbing him by the collar. Blood was pounding in my ears and I was moments away from blowing up on him. "Not anymore. And the thing that happened between us isn't some _small matter_ you can shrug off. If I recall correctly,  _you're_  the one who called me a freak --"

And that was when Brendon shoved me backwards, hard enough to send me knocking the table noisily. His face was red and the vein on his temple was throbbing. "Don't come near me like that!" His voice rose trenchantly. "Keep your fucking --"

"What's going on here?" A stern voice demanded, cutting Brendon off and jarring my attention towards the tall woman who wore a power suit and a disapproving look on her severe features standing a few feet away from us. It was none other than the headmistress, Mrs Roberts, glaring admonishingly at us with narrowed eyes. "Both of you to my office."

My heart jumped at the sight as I straightened up quickly, averting my gaze away from his. Near me, Brendon scoffed and gave me a disgusted look. "Thanks a lot, Randy."

Since I couldn't already be in more trouble than I already was, I flashed him the finger and stalked after the headmistress. The gesture was reciprocated anyway.


	7. 5

Mrs Roberts was one step away from handing both Brendon and I tickets to being suspended.

"Could you explain yourselves once more, Mr Ross and Mr Urie?" She said in that deliberately even tone that would've made every student in this school reconsider their life options. She wasn't convinced with our stories and was giving us second chances to recount what had happened in the library earlier.

I suspected it was because of the fact that I made it sound like Brendon was the one who nearly started the fight between us while Brendon accused me of provoking him and needed to defend himself. At this point, I was fairly certain that if we couldn't properly explain ourselves without jabbing fingers into each other's faces, we would be greeting our suspensions soon.

I resisted the urge to groan impatiently and give the lady a piece of my mind that I didn't have time to entertain her but sat still in my seat. It took a lot of mental effort.

Beside me, Brendon simply looked annoyed. He had his arms crossed and face twisted into an annoyed expression with his lower lip jutting out.

Mrs Roberts alternated gazes between the both of us, her cold gray eyes carefully assessing the situation. Her immaculate gray-streaked hair and gray power suit matched the shade of her eyes appropriately, which I noticed detachedly. "Well?"

I cleared my throat and shifted in my seat before recounting my story first, as Brendon was either too scared or too smart to go first. This time, I refrained from throwing all the blame on him, instead distributing the weight of the fault evenly between us. Once I was finished, Mrs Roberts looked at Brendon expectantly.

The brunet noticed her stare and made an impatient sound. Mrs Roberts didn't show any reaction to that so I guessed it discouraged Brendon from putting up a show. Soon he launched into the story and this time he did the same as I did: distributing the weight of the fault evenly between us. "But for the record, it's still his fault for being a sore asshole." He added once he was finished.

My fingers curled tightly around the armrests of the chair I sat on.

Mrs Roberts said nothing in reply, instead stared at the both of us with that unnerving gaze of hers. The room was so silent that you might as well be hearing ghosts instead. Finally after a long minute, she spoke, "Since nobody was injured - and no, Mr Urie your forehead doesn't count - and the fight was interrupted before it could begin, I'm afraid I'll be handing you boys tickets to the detention room for one week."

"You should probably give us tickets to the next Your Catalytic Relationship concert." Brendon muttered under his breath.

"Unfortunately, they broke up and have never announced when they will return so for the meantime you'll have to deal with an hour with Mr Gittens for the next 7 days." Mrs Roberts retorted, earning shocked looks from both Brendon and I. She noticed our expressions and her features twisted into a frown. "Now don't look so surprised, young men. I  _do_  listen to music as well."

Clearing her throat, she proceeded to dismiss the both of us. As soon as we stepped out of her office, Brendon broke into a fit of laughs and earned confused stares from the admin staff. "Who would've thought she listened to YCR?" He mused aloud.

I shrugged. "Beats me."

The amused grin he wore faded when he turned to face me in the hallway. Hardly giving him a glance, I tried to move past him to head straight for my Biology lessons but he shifted so he was obstructing my way. I flashed him a scowl. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

Brendon's brown eyes flickered. "It's still  _your_  fault for getting us into that mess, Ross. If it weren't for you being a sensitive jerk who can't let go of the past, we would be on our merry way to class six minutes earlier." With that, he swiveled on his heel and stormed away, leaving me staring after him and silently cursing at him.

*

"You must be very frustrated to have dragged me along to Hot Topic after school." Ray remarked in a somewhat bored tone as I fumed petulantly on our way to the said store. When I didn't reply he simply sighed and texted something on his phone, nearly tripping over a pebble on the sidewalk.

"Don't text while walking." I chided over my shoulder.

"Dude, shut it." He mumbled, continuing to tap away on his screen before placing it back in his pocket. The tall, wild-haired boy hurried to walk apace with me, shifting his backpack straps. "Ok so what happened?"

I refrained from answering him until my foot crossed the threshold of Hot Topic. Immediately I was greeted by the familiar sight of black walls, racks of t-shirts and merchandise. The staff glanced up when we entered. Some of them I knew because I was a regular. Ray, on the other hand, was a little freaked out by the whole mood of the place.

"Was this always like this?" He asked. I knew Ray had never really set foot in the place so his bewilderment was understandable. "I mean the black interior --"

"Yes it has." I replied and had a look around at the stuff. Shopping at this store often had a calming effect on me for some reason and then I started to talk. "Brendon Urie is an ass."

Ray, who was trailing behind me, was checking out the some of t-shirts they had on sale. "I suppose it's too late for me to escape from you - Ooh! They have these  _rad-looking_  graphic tees!" He exclaimed with delight when he held one of those shirts up. When he noticed me smirking at his excitement he flushed and put it back, clearing his throat. "You were saying?"

"Brendon Urie?"

Ray nodded. "Ah, him. What about him?" He went back to checking the graphic tees.

I told him - though it was more like complaining - about what happened in the library, Mrs Roberts' office and in the hallway. I really didn't like that soccer player and the feeling was mutual but I voiced out how it was unfair to jab his finger at me in that way.

Of course, Ray didn't understand why I hated Brendon but he was kind enough to not ask about it. Instead, he simply nodded along, enduring my litany of complaints about Urie. Once I was finished, he turned to look at me with a serious expression. My nerves tingled because with that face on, it meant Ray was ready to give me advice or tell me to man up.

He held up a shift. "Do you think I should wear this on my date?"

I was taken aback by both his inquiry and the design on the shirt. It was more of the former than the latter, even if the design was questionable "What?" I responded with an air of bewilderment.

He rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. "What do you mean  _what_? Do you think the shirt's a bad choice or what?"

"I honestly had no idea you had a date." I replied, skirting around his question. "And I thought you were listening to me." It was then when I noticed how self-important I sounded and bit my lip.

Ray sighed with resignation. "Not everything revolves around you, Ryan." He shook his head and set the t-shirt back where he found it. "I was talking about my date two days ago."

"I honestly can't remember. Guy or girl?"

I watched as high color flooded Rays face. "A girl." He mumbled, trailing the word.

I stared at him. "Seriously?"

"Well, not everybody in the circle is gay." He said a little defensively, obviously indicating our other friends, Patrick and Josh. "Her name's Christa and I have  _no idea_  what to wear. I've been stressing out about it and --"

"Dude, you always look great in whatever you wear." I chuckled, giving him an encouraging nudge with my elbow. "You'll breeze through the date. What year is she from?"

"She's a senior like us. We're having Geography lessons together every Monday and Friday." Ray said. "Honestly, I almost freaked out when I asked her because I've had a huge crush on her since this year and I was so afraid she'd turn me down."

Reaching out, I patted his shoulder and gave him a smile. "You're a fucking awesome dude. I don't see what's not to like. Relax, Ray, and everything will go smoothly."

At that, the corners of Ray's mouth lifted. "Thanks, Ryan."

*

I decided to take Alfie for a walk later that day at the neighborhood park. The canine was practically dragging me by the leash as he was very excited to finally be out of the house. Barking happily, he bounded his way into the field with me in tow.

"Alfie, c'mon boy." I laughed, managing to catch up with my dog. He sat down obediently as I took off his leash and rubbed his head. "Who wants to play fetch?" I held up his favorite frisbee and stood up.

His body was tensed, eyes on the toy when I swung my arm and released the frisbee. Alfie chased after it before he leaped and caught it with his mouth. Landing on all fours, he shook himself and loped his way back with a proud step in his gait.

The bright red frisbee was deposited near my feet. A smile curled my lips as I bent down to pick it up.

"Puppy!"

I turned around to see a little girl with her dark hair in pigtails staring delightedly at Alfie. Offering a shy grin, she asked in a sweet voice. "Is that your doggy?"

Alfie approached her cautiously, sniffing her when I gently tugged him by the collar. "He was my dad's. His name is Alfie - um, my dog not my dad." I added, flushing.

She giggled, finding me amusing in some way, and petted Alfie tentatively at first, earning an affectionate lick from my dog. "I think he likes me!" Looking up at me with wide, curious eyes she cocked her head. "Where's your dad?"

Immediately a painful lump rose in my throat. I bit my lip, trying not to let the old grief suffocate me with memories of my father. "He's ... gone." My voice cracked audibly at the last word.

"Will he come back?" She sounded worried.

I shrugged, offering a weak smile when a woman came up from behind her. "There you  _are_ , Delia." I assumed she was her mother as her tone bore traces of the sort of maternal worry I sometimes heard in my mother's voice. "I'm so sorry if she was bothering you --"

"Oh no. It's totally alright. She wanted to play with Alfie." I said, gesturing at the Alsatian beside me, but Delia and her mother were starting to leave. Sighing, I turned back to Alfie and rubbed the back of his ears absentmindedly. He let out a soft whine and nuzzled my hand.

When we went back home afterwards. I couldn't help but think of my father, George Ross. I remembered all the times I shared with him and how happy I had been back then before that horrible car accident happened. Honestly, I didn't think I had really gotten over his death - I had only shoved it to the back of my mind so that I wouldn't dwell on the fact that he had left my life for good.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sighing as I felt warm moist streaks slide their way down my face.

It was also because of his death that I stopped playing soccer which was his favorite sport and that Brendon and I never spoke to each other anymore.


	8. 6

Josh casted me a disapproving glare when he caught me doodling nonsense on my notebook while the Chemistry teacher, Mr Powell, was explaining the procedure for the following experiment we were assigned to do. "Ry, stop it." He hissed, elbowing me.

The straight line of graphite on the blank piece of paper was disrupted, leaving an awful jagged mark. I sighed and set my pencil down irritably. "I hate Chem." I mumbled.

Josh opened his mouth to say something but before he could, Mr Powell called out, "Mr Ross, if you could kindly pay attention to my explanations then maybe you would avoid lesser lab accidents."

A soft murmur ran throughout the lab when my cheeks heated.

"Yessir." I replied before ducking my head and rolling my eyes surreptitiously. Glancing down at my doodle, I frowned at how awful it turned out and then tore the sheet out my notebook. I held it up to Josh. "You ruined my drawing of Rainbow Dash."

"Not interested in My Little Pony, thanks. You should ask Ray instead." Josh swatted my hand away, still investing most of his attention on Mr Powell. When the teacher gave us time to do the assignment, Josh and I worked at our station - well, it was mostly him doing the mixing while he ordered me around to get whatever apparatus or chemicals he needed. It worked out for both of us and once we recorded the results and noted our observations, I heard a loud, abrupt laugh in the lab.

Both Josh and I glanced up, him in curiosity while I in annoyance. A few stations away we caught who it was. His shoulders were shaking but he had his hand clamped over his mouth to block out the noises of amusement. Spencer turned to see who was watching before he caught my gaze and shrugged sheepishly, gesturing at Brendon with his thumb.

Mr Powell hadn't heard Spencer as he was busy in the other room gathering chemicals that another student was lacking.

"Ever had a really bad fight with someone?" I asked Josh out of boredom because I needed to distract myself from checking the wall clock above the whiteboard every three minutes.

My friend was busy jabbing his fingers on his calculator buttons when he stopped and wore a distant look. "Me and Tyler. It was over a kitchen sink but it doesn't really matter anymore. Why?"

"Never mind."

"Are you in one of those angsty emo moods today?" He smirked.

"Possibly." I replied nonchalantly before tugging one of the belt loops irritably.

Josh, noticing my fidgeting, looked down and tutted. "New jeans? I bet they're from the ladies section. They look kinda tight though." He said thoughtfully.

"The tighter the better." I mumbled. "Skinny jeans don't look good if they're not tight." I fiddled with the button on the waistband, feeling a little worried that it might pop out if I inhaled wrong. Of course right at the wrong moment was I caught by Mr Powell.

"Is something the matter?" He raised his eyebrow questioningly, frowning at me. "Would you like to settle your business in the bathroom?" Snickers were heard from around the lab.

I shook my head and went back to work to hide my burning face from my peers who enjoyed my momentary embarrassment.

*

Making my way down the crowded hallways on my way to History lessons, I was nearly trampled over by someone. There was a tendency for this to happen in the corridors, even though there were rules that you weren't supposed to run it was never really enforced. Once I righted myself, I felt hands on my arm in a belated attempt to help me up.

"So sorry, man."

"It's totally alright --" I broke off, staring at Dallon in surprise, who returned my expression with wide blue eyes.

"Oh, it's  _you_." He mumbled, letting me go with a sour expression. "Rose, right?"

"Ross." I corrected irritably, narrowing my eyes at him.

He was taller than I was by a few inches and practically towered over almost everybody else. His height made me a little nervous, what with that scowl and piercing blue eyes. He would've been handsome if it weren't for that bad-tempered expression.

I dusted myself off, inclining my head. "Sorry about the games the other day." I said, feeling embarrassed to be around him. I braced myself for a barrage of insults about my soccer skills but Dallon simply shook his head at me, the creases in between his brows deepening.

"Y'know you could've been more careful and alert in the game. Also, I get that your leg isn't in top condition but you should lift your feet properly when you run instead of dragging them." He said abruptly.

I stared at him, unable to reply.

"Anyway, I've got classes to attend." He added and pushed past me. I didn't really know if he did that on purpose but he did it with enough force to make my shoulder hurt from the contact.

The day went by agonizingly slow until dismissal rolled over. Stupidly, I kinda forgot I had to spend an hour in the detention room - or affectionally called by other students as the Dungeon - until I was on my way out with Ray, Josh and Patrick.

I could've continued talking about the latest yaoi manga with my friends had it not been when I was suddenly dragged back by my backpack. I made a surprised noise, something that sounded in between a squeak and a yelp. Thinking it was Ray, who had the tendency to do that sometimes, I sighed. "C'mon Ray, what are you --"

I broke off when I saw my confused friend staring at me with a frown. "That's not me." He mumbled nervously.

Patrick released a nervous laugh, adjusting his cap on his strawberry blond head. "Uh, Brendon."

I whipped around just as the said person let me go with a bored expression. My throat closed up as I struggled to find the words. Unfortunately, Brendon jabbed his finger behind him. "We've got a date at the Dungeon, remember?"

He should've worded his sentence properly because the reactions he got from all of us consisted of pure shock. It was only then when he realized his mistake and attempted to correct himself. He would've made it had it not for Patrick blurting out, "Ryan, I didn't know you were dating Brendon!"

Josh was also quick to comment his thoughts. "I thought Brendon was dating Willow Autumns!"

Both Brendon and I opened our mouths to stop them from continuing to jump to conclusions. "Guys!" We snapped simultaneously when we realized we spoken at the same time.

I turned my face away so that Brendon wouldn't see that my face was flushing with heat. Mustering on a serious expression, I told them, "I'm  _not_  dating Brendon."

"True." Brendon agreed, nodding. "Ryan's honestly a jerk."

"That's not true." Patrick mumbled.

Brendon narrowed his eyes at my friend. I had to resist the urge to step in between him and the shorter boy as though I could protect Patrick from his words. The taller brunet boy continued. "Anyway, I meant that both Ryan and I have to go to detention. Not pointing fingers but he got us there. Anyway, cool meeting you guys."

With that, he swiveled on his heel and marched off, melting into the stream of students exiting the school building. I could feel the weight of Ray, Josh and Patrick's gazes on my back as I stared after him. Sighing, I glanced over my shoulder. "For the record, we're not dating. Never gonna happen."

With one last glare at them, I hurried after Brendon. It was quite a task as people were streaming in the opposite direction so either I was pushed back or I stepped on somebody's toes on the way. How Brendon did it so effortlessly, I'll never know. When I reached the Dungeon, Brendon was waiting for me beside the door with a scowl.

" _Finally_."

I gave him a pointed look. "You didn't have to wait for me." I said.

His eyebrows scrunched together and a mocking chortle escaped his lips. "Me? Waiting for  _you_?  _Please_!" He scoffed and then gestured at something - or someone - behind me. "I was waiting for my wingman."

At that, somebody tall brushed past me and gave Brendon a hug when the the shorter of the two let out a giggle and lifted the taller of the two. It took me a moment to register the person as Dallon Weekes. Somehow, the gesture itself made me question a few things but as soon as Dallon turned around, those doubts dissipated and were replaced by that sense of awkwardness.

I averted my eyes and hurried into the Dungeon. Inside, there were already a few other students, all looking bored and as if they could be off doing something way more interesting that stay in school for longer. I recognized Nate Ruess taking a nap on a desk with his shades sitting atop his mop of brown hair, two boys playing a trading card game and Lindsey Ballato from Geography with her ears buried under a pair of red headphones.

"Oh, a new face." I nearly jumped out my skin, not at all noticing the teacher at the desk. His curious eyes were on me, noting my appearance which gave me enough to time to note his. The teacher looked about twenty five years old, with his shock of red hair and a splash of freckles across his cheeks. With a shrug, he checked his clipboard. "Mr George R. Ross the Third?"

"Just Ryan." I said quickly.

"Ryan." The teacher nodded. "I'm Theodore Gittens, your jailer for today. Feel free to call me Theo. Not really a big fan of students calling me by my surname but - Phil, please put that Mr Squishycheeks back." He said with a sigh at the boy who was now holding a hamster. Theo returned his attention to me. "Eh, feel free to sit anywhere you like."

I wasn't sure how detentions went as I had zero experience with these types of matter so I simply went with it. Looking around quickly, I made my mind up and headed for the empty seat beside the window behind Lyndsey. Resting my head on the table, I kept my gaze on the wall clock for about two minutes before my attention began to wander around.

Since there wasn't much I could do at this point beside talk to the other students, I reached into my pocket and fished my phone out. Surreptitiously, I checked if Theo minded but he was busy playing sudoku. Unlocking my phone, I decided to check my social media feed and scrolled aimlessly before the feeling of being bored out of my wits set in.

I briefly considered reading fanfiction but set my mind against it. I didn't want to risk having a mini Ryan problem as my collection consisted of steamy stories. Exhaling audibly, I watched Dallon and Brendon.

Their heads were ducked towards each other as they watched a soccer game on Dallon's phone. While I was fairly certain they were both really close friends, I wondered about the way Brendon rested his head on Dallon's shoulder.

Of course, the sight was enough to stir up something in my chest, a sensation that could be described as an aching constriction that left a bitter taste in my mouth. Briefly an image flashed behind my mind's eye: two little boys sitting on the bleachers with their arm slung over the other, laughing.

The ache in my chest hurt a little more and as if sensing my thoughts, Brendon glanced in my direction. I tried to smooth out my expression but he had already seen it. With an unreadable emotion in his gaze, his eyes lingered on mine for a few more moments before he returned his focus back on the game, placing his head back on Dallon's shoulder.

I wasn't sure what to make of his gaze, wasn't certain at all if it was guilt I saw or simply my imagination.


	9. 7

Once detention was over, I was out of the Dungeon faster than any of the other students. After spending about an hour bored out of my wits, I could hardly be blamed for wanting to make a beeline for the exit. Theo hardly seemed surprised when I rushed past him without a word.

My sneakers squeaked against the polished floors of the empty hallways. I glanced down at my phone's screen and cursed under my breath when I saw the time. There were already a few texts from Pete asking me where I was as he was already waiting outside my house. Sending a quick response that I would be there in a few minutes, I quickly shoved my phone in my pocket and threw myself inside my car.

By the time I reached home, I saw Pete sitting on the front steps, his head ducked as he had his attention on his phone. He paused, only to glance up when I parked my car at the driveway. "Hey, Ryan." He waved at me, getting up to move so I could unlock the door. "Back from detention?"

"Yep." I nodded, inserting my keys into the lock. "When is it starting?" I said, unable to recall when the gig Pete and I were going to attend later this afternoon.

"Four 'o clock." He replied and fiddled with the hem of his plain black t-shirt absentmindedly as his eyes drifted. He was looking extra emo today, dressed in black from head to toe. The only thing he wore that wasn't that uniform shade was his leather bracelet.

I bit my lip, quickly checking to see if he was the type of person who was afraid of dogs. Instead, I saw him grinning with delight. "That's my dog, Alfie." I pushed the door open, finding my Alsatian eyeing Pete warily. "Down, boy. Pete's a friend." I said, taking him by the collar.

Pete wasn't fazed by my dog, instead he bent down and smiled at Alfie before he raised his hand to scratch my dog behind the ear on the spot where Alfie liked the most. The canine decided Pete was no harm and licked his hand, wagging his tail. I excused myself to get changed while Pete and Alfie got acquainted.

Up in my room, I tossed my backpack carelessly on my bed and went straight for my wardrobe. Besides band t-shirts, I didn't have any other choices besides the preppy looking sweaters my Mom had gotten me and a couple of plaid button downs. After a minute of contemplation, I selected a t-shirt with the LA Devotees logo on it, hoping that the audience at the gig wouldn't be offended that I was practically advertising another band without meaning to.

Once I was done, I reapplied my eyeliner and tried to fix my hair. Some days they would lie flat on on my head but today a tuft was sticking up, something that wasn't there a while ago. With a sigh, I left the mini mohawk be and went back downstairs, finding Pete giving Alfie belly rubs.

The boy looked up at me and grinned. He pointed at my head. "I like that hairstyle of yours."

"My hair's being a little rebellious for some reason." I managed a half sheepish smile.

He nodded in approval. "It suits you, y'know, like a Ryhawk." He began to get up from the couch, much to Alfie's whines of protest.

"Is that what you wanna call it?" I snorted, pushing away stray strands of hair from my face. "It's a cute name."

"For a cute guy." Pete said with a laugh and I felt heat rush into my cheeks.

I wasn't used to getting compliments from boys, and while the ones from girls made me feel mildly uncomfortable because they weren't my type that comment from Pete made me feel a little appreciation for my 'Ryhawk.' To my relief and slight disappointment, Pete didn't catch my expression.

After locking my front door, Pete offered to drive us to the venue since he was the one who invited me. The interior of his car was unnaturally neat for some reason, which kinda intimidated me as mine was littered with CD cases and crumpled pieces of paper. Detachedly I wondered if this was an attempt to make a good first impression, if so, it was wasted on me the moment he connected his phone to the car and played a song by a band I've never heard of.

A curious smile played on my lips as I paid attention to the lyrics and the sound of the music. "I've never heard of this band."

Pete glanced at me from the wheel with an amused expression. "Really? Well, they're pretty much undiscovered so I don't blame you. They're called Jamie's Elsewhere."

"What's the song called?"

" _They Said A Storm Was Coming_." He answered. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"Are they post-hardcore? They kinda sound like it." I opined thoughtfully.

Pete nodded. "Post-hardcore trash right here." He pointed at himself with a laugh as the song came to an end. "Hey, uh you don't mind if I talk about something totally random for a bit?" He asked, sounding insecure. "I just need to get it off my chest."

My eyebrows creased as I faced him. We barely knew each other and to have him tell me something that was probably personal made me feel slightly uncomfortable. I wasn't the best person to ask for advice but since Pete had regarded me pleadingly, I gave in. I guess it was time for an emo-to-emo talk. "Sure." I hummed, fiddling with my seatbelt.

Pete drew a breath and looked at me with a mix of worry and fear. "Hope this doesn't change anything between us but, ah, I'm into ... dudes." His lower lip caught in between his teeth as he braced himself for my response.

I stared at him. "Ah, you're gay. No worries, I'm gay too."

His eyed widened with relief. "Oh good, that makes it so much easier for me to talk about it." He chuckled, patting his chest. "I was kinda expecting you to like think I'm weird or like there's something wrong but damn --" He broke off to regain his composure. His response made my lips curve upwards in amusement. I figured he was an unfiltered type of person.

"So I have a crush ... obviously on a guy." He began, running fingers through his black hair. "I think he's really cute."

Instantly I found myself paying close attention to him, partly for Patrick's sake. "Yea?" I smirked.

Pete slapped my arm. "Don't give me that look or I swear." He laughed. "Ok, back to what I was saying, um, this guy ... I don't think he really cares but I think he's really talented and all. And he can be so dorky when he talks about something he likes."

That description sounded a lot like Patrick.

Fishing for a little more details to confirm my suspicion, I asked casually. "What does he look like?"

"Oh he has these amazing eyes --"

I guessed Patrick's eyes were 'amazing' as they were bright blue with an inner ring of hazel.

"-- awesome hair --"

Patrick's strawberry blond hair looked soft but I wasn't sure if they were 'awesome.'

"-- and he's tall. About your height actually."

I stopped listening at that point because Patrick was definitely nowhere near my height. Not wanting to seem rude even though I lost interest in what Pete has to say about his crush, I ran through a quick list of boys my height at school. Instead of naming them one by one, I guessed. "Mikey Way the sophomore?"

I heard a sharp intake of breath. "How did you know?" Pete's tone sounded of shock and horror.

I shrugged, remembering how Pete and Mikey would usually hang out after school and how they would look at each other. Of course, I thought I was mistaken but that wasn't the case as Pete basically confirmed his feelings for his best friend.

Detachedly I wondered how Patrick would feel and then decided not to tell my best friend about it. Then somehow disappointment in myself bubbled in my chest. I was conflicted between telling Patrick the truth so he wouldn't be so hung up and move on but at the same time I didn't know how the guy would react.

Thinking my silence was a sign that I was upset in a way, Pete cleared his throat. "Unless ... you have a crush on him too --"

"No, I don't." To make up for my suspiciously quick response, I faked a laugh and waved my hand dismissively. "Oh, are we here?" It wasn't that I was eager to change the topic but it was because we were pulling up in a parking lot.

Pete, letting the topic of his crush slip, nodded with an excited grin. "Yep." Finding an empty spot, Pete parked his car and in no time we were filing out of the vehicle.

*

The gig turned out to be at one of the cafes in town. It was a small, relatively unknown post-hardcore band I had never heard of but their music was really good so when Pete led me over to a booth where they sold mixtapes of their songs, I bought a copy.

Once we were outside, the twilit sky greeted us both. I hadn't even realized we were there for so long. Pete turned to me with raised eyebrows. "So, what do you think?"

"The show was pretty awesome." I grinned. "I had fun."

"Really? That's awesome." Pete laughed as we made our way back to his car. A cold breeze picked up, whipping blood to my cheeks and causing me to shiver a little. It was then when I suddenly remembered that the reason why we were hanging out was because Pete didn't want to go to the show alone when Mikey denied his offer.

Out of curiosity as we got into Pete's car, I asked, "Why didn't Mikey want to come with you to the show?"

Pete pressed his lips together. "Ah, he's having a family function tonight. He really wanted to come but it's important and he couldn't ditch it for me."

"For you."

He nodded with a shrug. "Yea, well, he was bummed out but then he suggested that I shouldn't miss the show because of him." Pete let out a soft laugh. "The thing is I was really looking forward to this with him."

Immediately, I felt guilty for some obscure reason I couldn't place a finger on.

"I was planning to tell him how I felt actually tonight --" He caught my expression. "Oh no, don't - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like - I'm not regretting the fact that I invited you. I swear I enjoyed the show with you and I'm glad we could hang out like friends."

"Friends?" I raised my eyebrow quizzically.

Pete bit his lip, fidgeting his leather bracelet. "Um unless you wanna call us bros --"

"No, I mean, I never really though I'd have the chance to hang out like this with a stranger - no offense --"

"None taken."

"- and have them calling me a friend right after that. Am I that likable?"

Pete snickered, elbowing me playfully. "You're starting to ramble a lot. Kinda reminds me of Brendon before our matches start."

At that I snapped my mouth shut. The mention of that guy's name was enough to snap me out of it and stop the words from streaming out so freely.

"But I think you're an awesome dude." He said after a moment. "Awesome enough to call you my friend. Anyway, enough said. It's time to drive you home, hombre." The rest of the car ride was filled in silence, save for the music keeping the atmosphere from feeling awkward.

When we pulled up at the driveway of my house, I thanked Pete for the ride and went inside. My mother wasn't home yet so my arrival was greeted in the form of slobbery kisses from Alfie. I wasn't hungry so I simply took a shower and went straight to my room to do some homework.

*

Given the fact that when I concentrated on a task with the right type of motivation, my attention would be on it until I was completed with my task. I didn't hear my mother return home but I knew she was back already from the telltale signs of her presence in the kitchen: the dishes were cleaned up.

It was well past one in the morning when I looked for a snack in the fridge. With a frown, I poured myself a glass of milk and wandered to my backyard. There was the sound of music throbbing in the distance. Someone was probably throwing a party and the cops hadn't shut them down yet.

Other than the ungodly noise, the night was relatively tranquil. Stars dotted the dark sky, forming constellations; I still remembered some of their names because my father and I used to go up to the roof to look at them when I was younger. He'd point out the various patterns and tell me the names of them and the stories about them. I never really believed him but now I would've given anything to hear his voice again.

My chest tightened involuntarily at the memory of his funeral when I was eleven. It was raining then but not in heavy sheets as I had thought the night before; it was a light drizzle. Everybody was dressed in black attires and somber expressions as they paid their last respects to the man who served his country.

It was a small burial ceremony, though. There were some of his fellow soldiers present but only those that were obligated to be there. The rest were just some of my relatives from my dad's side whom I wasn't very close with and a few other adults I didn't know.

Brendon was there too, dressed in a suit that was too tight at the collar and too loose at the cuffs. Our exchange that day was brief but painful.

Fast forward to now when I was at the age of seventeen and I hadn't moved on much for the past six years.

I was such a let down to myself.


	10. 8

Once detention was over, I was out of the Dungeon faster than any of the other students. After spending about an hour bored out of my wits, I could hardly be blamed for wanting to make a beeline for the exit. Theo hardly seemed surprised when I rushed past him without a word.

My sneakers squeaked against the polished floors of the empty hallways. I glanced down at my phone's screen and cursed under my breath when I saw the time. There were already a few texts from Pete asking me where I was as he was already waiting outside my house. Sending a quick response that I would be there in a few minutes, I quickly shoved my phone in my pocket and threw myself inside my car.

By the time I reached home, I saw Pete sitting on the front steps, his head ducked as he had his attention on his phone. He paused, only to glance up when I parked my car at the driveway. "Hey, Ryan." He waved at me, getting up to move so I could unlock the door. "Back from detention?"

"Yep." I nodded, inserting my keys into the lock. "When is it starting?" I said, unable to recall when the gig Pete and I were going to attend later this afternoon.

"Four 'o clock." He replied and fiddled with the hem of his plain black t-shirt absentmindedly as his eyes drifted. He was looking extra emo today, dressed in black from head to toe. The only thing he wore that wasn't that uniform shade was his leather bracelet.

I bit my lip, quickly checking to see if he was the type of person who was afraid of dogs. Instead, I saw him grinning with delight. "That's my dog, Alfie." I pushed the door open, finding my Alsatian eyeing Pete warily. "Down, boy. Pete's a friend." I said, taking him by the collar.

Pete wasn't fazed by my dog, instead he bent down and smiled at Alfie before he raised his hand to scratch my dog behind the ear on the spot where Alfie liked the most. The canine decided Pete was no harm and licked his hand, wagging his tail. I excused myself to get changed while Pete and Alfie got acquainted.

Up in my room, I tossed my backpack carelessly on my bed and went straight for my wardrobe. Besides band t-shirts, I didn't have any other choices besides the preppy looking sweaters my Mom had gotten me and a couple of plaid button downs. After a minute of contemplation, I selected a t-shirt with the LA Devotees logo on it, hoping that the audience at the gig wouldn't be offended that I was practically advertising another band without meaning to.

Once I was done, I reapplied my eyeliner and tried to fix my hair. Some days they would lie flat on on my head but today a tuft was sticking up, something that wasn't there a while ago. With a sigh, I left the mini mohawk be and went back downstairs, finding Pete giving Alfie belly rubs.

The boy looked up at me and grinned. He pointed at my head. "I like that hairstyle of yours."

"My hair's being a little rebellious for some reason." I managed a half sheepish smile.

He nodded in approval. "It suits you, y'know, like a Ryhawk." He began to get up from the couch, much to Alfie's whines of protest.

"Is that what you wanna call it?" I snorted, pushing away stray strands of hair from my face. "It's a cute name."

"For a cute guy." Pete said with a laugh and I felt heat rush into my cheeks.

I wasn't used to getting compliments from boys, and while the ones from girls made me feel mildly uncomfortable because they weren't my type that comment from Pete made me feel a little appreciation for my 'Ryhawk.' To my relief and slight disappointment, Pete didn't catch my expression.

After locking my front door, Pete offered to drive us to the venue since he was the one who invited me. The interior of his car was unnaturally neat for some reason, which kinda intimidated me as mine was littered with CD cases and crumpled pieces of paper. Detachedly I wondered if this was an attempt to make a good first impression, if so, it was wasted on me the moment he connected his phone to the car and played a song by a band I've never heard of.

A curious smile played on my lips as I paid attention to the lyrics and the sound of the music. "I've never heard of this band."

Pete glanced at me from the wheel with an amused expression. "Really? Well, they're pretty much undiscovered so I don't blame you. They're called Jamie's Elsewhere."

"What's the song called?"

" _They Said A Storm Was Coming_." He answered. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"Are they post-hardcore? They kinda sound like it." I opined thoughtfully.

Pete nodded. "Post-hardcore trash right here." He pointed at himself with a laugh as the song came to an end. "Hey, uh you don't mind if I talk about something totally random for a bit?" He asked, sounding insecure. "I just need to get it off my chest."

My eyebrows creased as I faced him. We barely knew each other and to have him tell me something that was probably personal made me feel slightly uncomfortable. I wasn't the best person to ask for advice but since Pete had regarded me pleadingly, I gave in. I guess it was time for an emo-to-emo talk. "Sure." I hummed, fiddling with my seatbelt.

Pete drew a breath and looked at me with a mix of worry and fear. "Hope this doesn't change anything between us but, ah, I'm into ... dudes." His lower lip caught in between his teeth as he braced himself for my response.

I stared at him. "Ah, you're gay. No worries, I'm gay too."

His eyed widened with relief. "Oh good, that makes it so much easier for me to talk about it." He chuckled, patting his chest. "I was kinda expecting you to like think I'm weird or like there's something wrong but damn --" He broke off to regain his composure. His response made my lips curve upwards in amusement. I figured he was an unfiltered type of person.

"So I have a crush ... obviously on a guy." He began, running fingers through his black hair. "I think he's really cute."

Instantly I found myself paying close attention to him, partly for Patrick's sake. "Yea?" I smirked.

Pete slapped my arm. "Don't give me that look or I swear." He laughed. "Ok, back to what I was saying, um, this guy ... I don't think he really cares but I think he's really talented and all. And he can be so dorky when he talks about something he likes."

That description sounded a lot like Patrick.

Fishing for a little more details to confirm my suspicion, I asked casually. "What does he look like?"

"Oh he has these amazing eyes --"

I guessed Patrick's eyes were 'amazing' as they were bright blue with an inner ring of hazel.

"-- awesome hair --"

Patrick's strawberry blond hair looked soft but I wasn't sure if they were 'awesome.'

"-- and he's tall. About your height actually."

I stopped listening at that point because Patrick was definitely nowhere near my height. Not wanting to seem rude even though I lost interest in what Pete has to say about his crush, I ran through a quick list of boys my height at school. Instead of naming them one by one, I guessed. "Mikey Way the sophomore?"

I heard a sharp intake of breath. "How did you know?" Pete's tone sounded of shock and horror.

I shrugged, remembering how Pete and Mikey would usually hang out after school and how they would look at each other. Of course, I thought I was mistaken but that wasn't the case as Pete basically confirmed his feelings for his best friend.

Detachedly I wondered how Patrick would feel and then decided not to tell my best friend about it. Then somehow disappointment in myself bubbled in my chest. I was conflicted between telling Patrick the truth so he wouldn't be so hung up and move on but at the same time I didn't know how the guy would react.

Thinking my silence was a sign that I was upset in a way, Pete cleared his throat. "Unless ... you have a crush on him too --"

"No, I don't." To make up for my suspiciously quick response, I faked a laugh and waved my hand dismissively. "Oh, are we here?" It wasn't that I was eager to change the topic but it was because we were pulling up in a parking lot.

Pete, letting the topic of his crush slip, nodded with an excited grin. "Yep." Finding an empty spot, Pete parked his car and in no time we were filing out of the vehicle.

*

The gig turned out to be at one of the cafes in town. It was a small, relatively unknown post-hardcore band I had never heard of but their music was really good so when Pete led me over to a booth where they sold mixtapes of their songs, I bought a copy.

Once we were outside, the twilit sky greeted us both. I hadn't even realized we were there for so long. Pete turned to me with raised eyebrows. "So, what do you think?"

"The show was pretty awesome." I grinned. "I had fun."

"Really? That's awesome." Pete laughed as we made our way back to his car. A cold breeze picked up, whipping blood to my cheeks and causing me to shiver a little. It was then when I suddenly remembered that the reason why we were hanging out was because Pete didn't want to go to the show alone when Mikey denied his offer.

Out of curiosity as we got into Pete's car, I asked, "Why didn't Mikey want to come with you to the show?"

Pete pressed his lips together. "Ah, he's having a family function tonight. He really wanted to come but it's important and he couldn't ditch it for me."

"For you."

He nodded with a shrug. "Yea, well, he was bummed out but then he suggested that I shouldn't miss the show because of him." Pete let out a soft laugh. "The thing is I was really looking forward to this with him."

Immediately, I felt guilty for some obscure reason I couldn't place a finger on.

"I was planning to tell him how I felt actually tonight --" He caught my expression. "Oh no, don't - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like - I'm not regretting the fact that I invited you. I swear I enjoyed the show with you and I'm glad we could hang out like friends."

"Friends?" I raised my eyebrow quizzically.

Pete bit his lip, fidgeting his leather bracelet. "Um unless you wanna call us bros --"

"No, I mean, I never really though I'd have the chance to hang out like this with a stranger - no offense --"

"None taken."

"- and have them calling me a friend right after that. Am I that likable?"

Pete snickered, elbowing me playfully. "You're starting to ramble a lot. Kinda reminds me of Brendon before our matches start."

At that I snapped my mouth shut. The mention of that guy's name was enough to snap me out of it and stop the words from streaming out so freely.

"But I think you're an awesome dude." He said after a moment. "Awesome enough to call you my friend. Anyway, enough said. It's time to drive you home, hombre." The rest of the car ride was filled in silence, save for the music keeping the atmosphere from feeling awkward.

When we pulled up at the driveway of my house, I thanked Pete for the ride and went inside. My mother wasn't home yet so my arrival was greeted in the form of slobbery kisses from Alfie. I wasn't hungry so I simply took a shower and went straight to my room to do some homework.

*

Given the fact that when I concentrated on a task with the right type of motivation, my attention would be on it until I was completed with my task. I didn't hear my mother return home but I knew she was back already from the telltale signs of her presence in the kitchen: the dishes were cleaned up.

It was well past one in the morning when I looked for a snack in the fridge. With a frown, I poured myself a glass of milk and wandered to my backyard. There was the sound of music throbbing in the distance. Someone was probably throwing a party and the cops hadn't shut them down yet.

Other than the ungodly noise, the night was relatively tranquil. Stars dotted the dark sky, forming constellations; I still remembered some of their names because my father and I used to go up to the roof to look at them when I was younger. He'd point out the various patterns and tell me the names of them and the stories about them. I never really believed him but now I would've given anything to hear his voice again.

My chest tightened involuntarily at the memory of his funeral when I was eleven. It was raining then but not in heavy sheets as I had thought the night before; it was a light drizzle. Everybody was dressed in black attires and somber expressions as they paid their last respects to the man who served his country.

It was a small burial ceremony, though. There were some of his fellow soldiers present but only those that were obligated to be there. The rest were just some of my relatives from my dad's side whom I wasn't very close with and a few other adults I didn't know.

Brendon was there too, dressed in a suit that was too tight at the collar and too loose at the cuffs. Our exchange that day was brief but painful.

Fast forward to now when I was at the age of seventeen and I hadn't moved on much for the past six years.

I was such a let down to myself.


	11. 9

I decided to set things straight for myself.

All the periods before lunch consisted of my mind constantly being distracted by Lynn's voice echoing 'my friend' in my head. So when lunch period arrived, I marched determinedly in search of food at the cafeteria before finding my friends.

As usual, I found them sitting near the exit except for one of them. Putting my tray on the table, I sat myself beside Josh and glanced around. "Where's Patrick?"

"I'm guessing Patrick has done something really horrible to you or that you have a piece of information about Pete that you think he would like to know." Ray opined honestly as he bit into his sandwich, ignoring the frown I gave him.

"He's in the computer lab with Andy Hurley." Josh replied. "Which reminds me that I have to go and look for Tyler. He kinda left his baseball cap with me --"

"Sit." I said flatly. Both Josh and Ray paused, staring at me uncertainly before they exchanged looks and obliged.

Ray shifted in his place, lower lip jutting out pensively. "Um, is something the matter?"

"The name Lynn Gunn sound familiar to you?" I questioned in my best impression of a detective's voice.

"Isn't she the captain of the school volleyball team?" Ray frowned. "I heard she gets really aggressive when she's in the offense row of the team. One time she spiked the ball so hard, it left a nasty bruise on someone's face when it hit them."

"I don't know." Josh cocked his head. "I'm not a big social butterfly. What's with the question?"

I narrowed my gaze at the both of them, holding the expression until Josh rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. "Okay Ryan, you're being really weird. Spill."

I bit my lip and gestured for them to lean forward. They obliged halfheartedly. "So, Lynn asked me to go with her to the boys' volleyball game tonight."

The crease on Josh's brow deepened. "Wait, how does she know you?"

I shrugged. "That's what I've been  _trying_  to ask you guys." I told them how I met Lynn at the library and how she knew me because of her 'friend.' It was honestly mind-boggling and the word was starting to get on my nerves. "Any ideas?" I looked at the both of them expectantly.

"I don't know, why don't you make a list of your friends?" Ray suggested.

"Good idea." I agreed and my stomach began to growl. With a frown, I unwrapped the sandwich I bought earlier and dug in.

"Then you'll have to ask each and every one of them." Josh sighed, appearing as though he wasn't a big fan of the notion. Both Ray and I shot him a questioning glare, to which he responded. "Why don't you ask her directly instead?"

"Believe me, I've tried." I snorted. "She ignores my questions or changes the topic."

"Rude." Ray muttered into his chocolate milk. "I suppose she's either self-important or she's afraid that you might find out that she's stalking you.

"Exactly!" I snapped my fingers at him. Making an irritated grunt, I raked my fingers through my hair. "But seriously though, if she is stalking me then she probably likes me. And if she does, it's gonna be so fucking complicated because I'm gay."

"Don't look at me." Josh mumbled. "Never had much luck with the opposite sex."

We then stared at Ray expectantly. He rolled his eyes and waved dismissively at us. "Look, I'm always the reject _ee_  and never the reject _or_."

"You must have  _some_  idea how to turn someone down." I expressed my exasperation in him.

Ray's eyebrows furrowed. "Well, how about that last time you turned that freshman kid last year, whatshisname Justin Blubber or something like that. You could use the same words."

"That was hardly a good example! I made the poor boy cry!" Even the mention of that kid's name made me feel awful. I had tried to tell him nicely but somehow my words were misunderstood. "I don't want to make Lynn cry."

"If she can bruise someone's face with a volleyball, I can only wonder what she'd do if Ryan messes it up." Josh pressed his lips together but I caught him snicker.

Safe to say that he earned an indignant punch in the arm from me.

*

Mom was wondering why I was going to attend a school sports match with a girl at night.

"So who's this girl?" She asked as she drove me to the school compound about half an hour before the volleyball match started. She was giving me this sideways stare that made me feel more uncomfortable than I already was wondering how Lynn would react if I rejected her.

"A sophomore." I replied cryptically and seeing the look on her face, I gave in. "I just met her and she was the one who asked me. I don't know we're just friends."

My mother fell silent but I was certain she was pursing her lips to hold back the stream of questions. She must've caught my uneasy expression and decided that it was best if I handled this situation myself without any parental interference. Soon, she dropped me off at the front entrance and I could see students milling about inside past the transparent doors.

Some I recognized but the others I suspected were from the other team's school. A few of the girls gave me appreciative stares to which I could nervously avoid looking back for I was definitely not straight. Ducking my head, I glanced around in attempts to find Lynn before I fished my phone out.

"Hey."

I stopped short and turned to see who it was. One of the girls from the group who were admiring me earlier was standing in front of me with a nervous but excited smile. My stomach churned uneasily as I returned her grin with a fake one of my own.

"Um, hi." I replied.

She giggled, twirling one of her dreadlocked strands and asked, "Are you waiting for someone?" I could tell from her tone that she was about to start flirting with me. I had to stop this before things got awkward. I was already getting a headache trying to work up the nerve to reject Lynn should she confirm my suspicions and I had to deal with another who was interested in me.

Uncomfortably, I shifted on my feet and breathed shakily. "I - um --"

"There you are, Ryan!" I thanked the universe for Lynn as she walked straight up to me, placing her hand on my shoulder. "I was looking all over for you! Sheesh, I thought I told you to meet me at the multipurpose hall." She frowned at me then regarded the girl who was staring at Lynn jealously.

Without a word, the girl flounced off and returned to her disappointed friends. Lynn stared after them for a few moments before her gray eyes regarded me with concern. "You okay there?"

Her hand was still on my shoulder. Shrugging it off gently, I shifted a few inches away from her. "I'll be fine."

"You look pale." She observed.

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking." I clipped off. Sighing, I ran my fingers through my hair and wasn't surprised that my palm came away with sweat. Wiping it on my jeans, I turned to Lynn who was texting someone on her phone. "So, there's still some time before the match. What do you want to do?"

She was putting her phone away as she shrugged. "I could introduce you to the team members. They're in the locker room getting ready."

I goggled at her incredulously. "But won't the coach mind? 'Cause you're a girl and --"

She snorted and closed her hand on my wrist, tugging me. "Nonsense! Mrs Shen doesn't mind at all."

"Wait the coach is a woman?"

She flashed me a grin. "Don't think girls can't teach boys a few tricks?"

*

It was honestly awkward being in a room full of fit, shirtless guys who all seemed to have collided with the puberty train and was left with very attractive physical features.

I kept my eyes averted from their curious when Lynn and I walked into the locker room. The blond didn't seem fazed by the guys though, instead gave them high fives and words of encouragement to help get rid of their pre-match anxiety. We found coach, Mrs Shen at the back checking things of her clipboard.

Mrs Shen was amazonian, near my height, and she had this sort of very serious vibe rolling off her. She shook my hand firmly as Lynn introduced me to her and examined me in a way that made me feel like I was exposed. She said something about how I could use a workout regime if I wanted to make myself look less like a noodle and suggested I try a sport that took advantage of height. I gave her an anxious smile when Lynn tugged me away by the wrist like I was some sort of balloon to introduce me to the rest.

Each guy was hotter than the guy before and by the time Lynn introduce me to the last person, my face was burning. Once we were out of the locker room, I excused myself to go to the restrooms.

Lynn raised her eyebrow but then she let me be. "I'll be at the hall. See you there."

Hurrying to the boys' restrooms, I shouldered the door open and went straight for the sink. There was a tightness in my crotch area in my jeans that was begging for attention; I suspected I had gotten it when one of boys from the volleyball team winked at me in a very suggestive manner. At the back of my mind, I was praying that nobody noticed it.

Sighing shakily, I turned the faucet on and allowed the water to splash onto my palms. As I washed my face, I considered my options when somebody threw the restroom door open, causing it to slam noisily against the wall. I started from the abrupt noise, whipping to see a flushed-looking Brendon panting.

Immediately I backed away from him. "What are you --"

He shushed me, looking around desperately. "Look, you have to do what I say and we won't get hurt." He said with a tone of urgency.

I stared at him with a mix of incomprehension and annoyance. "I am not getting involved in one of your --" I was cut off once again when he shoved me roughly into an empty stall. I barely had time to respond when he kicked the door shut and turned the lock. "Brendon, what are you doing?"

He swiveled at me with an irritated expression. "No questions." He snapped. "Do as I say, just this once and we'll never ever speak of this again."

I would've said something in response, wanting to scoff at his serious tone, but the sound of the door yet again slamming open and trenchant voices jarred me into cooperation. Faster than my now befuddled mind could process, Brendon bent down and his hands brushed the backs of my thighs before I was suddenly lifted up and pushed against the back of the wall. I made a choked sound of shock at the back of my throat when I felt his hot breath on my neck.

"Just moan when I give you the signal." He whispered urgently.

Heat rose to my cheeks at such an odd request but by then I was too confused to even protest when I heard someone shout above the other voices. "Where are you, Urie??"

I got the signal soon enough. Brendon was starting to move his hips into me, the movement causing the wall to follow the rhythm and me to let out an audible gasp. The commotion outside quieted a little as Brendon continued the sorcery he was doing in attempts to convince them that a couple was supposedly having sex.

I kept up the act but he was grinding on me in such a manner that made me release a few more whiny, needy moans. My right hand fisted in his hair as my left grabbed his shirt. He released a choked sound of protest, possibly because I was pulling his hair a bit too hard but the noises we made was enough to make whoever the people that were after Brendon to exchange a few words awkwardly amongst themselves and leave.

The restroom fell silent, save for our tangled breaths.

"I think they're gone now." I whispered.

Brendon listened for a few more moments before he put me down with a nod. "See? Now that wasn't so hard was it?" He let out a chuckle, shaking his head. "I really thought you weren't going to cooperate because what felt like your ego was poking my crotch."

Heat rushed into my cheeks as I stared at him in horror. "That wasn't my ego."

"Hm?" He frowned at me, confused.

"That was my dick."


	12. 10

Brendon could only stare at me with the same expression I wore. " _What??_ " He exhaled in utter shock.

My face was burning and the pace of how the recent chain of events was jacking up my brain so you couldn't blame me for struggling to explain myself. "With Lynn - locker room - hot guys - boner --" I sputtered unintelligibly.

He held up a hand, pale-faced, shaking his head. "Okay, I don't want to know what happened with - God,  _seriously_  Ryan?" He was disgusted, looking as if he wanted nothing more than to fetch up against the toilet bowl behind me and regurgitate his stomach's contents.

"You got me at the wrong time at the wrong place!" I argued, crossing my arms and staying as far away as I could. I didn't even know how I could continue being in his proximity after what he did. I remembered the way his hips pressed up against me, each movement sending waves of pleasure up me. I was horrified that I did enjoy it in some perverse way.

It made me feel filthy.

Exhaling hard, I let out a frustrated noise and banged my fist on the wall. The pain cleared my head enough for me to steady my breathing and regain my composure. Brendon was watching me silently, unmoving, with those wide brown eyes. My chest rose and fell as I placed both hands on the wall and hung my head low.

"Explain the shit you got yourself into." I growled, shooting him a sidelong glare.

Brendon swallowed, visibly uncomfortable by how angry I was, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ok, so I may or may not have offended a few of the opposing team's members with my enthusiastic spirit --"

"Brendon!"

He jumped. "Look, I really want our school to win and they were just too sensitive. They got mad, cursed at me before they started to chase me so I ran and ran and then I got a little tired and I decided to hide in here. Bad mistake because that would mean they could beat me up without anyone to call for help and you." He pointed at me.

"Anyway, I didn't want to them to beat you up too - because, you never know if they might - so I did what I had to." He met my eyes steadily.

"I feel  _violated_." I hissed through my teeth and straightened up as I faced him, balling my fists. Blood roared in my ears and my skin was hot to the touch. "Do you have  _any idea_  how harassed I feel right now?

A funny look crossed his features. "You sounded like you enjoyed it." Brendon murmured nonchalantly.

"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean that I liked what you did, even if you are a guy!" I threw my hands up in exasperation, wanting to strangle him. "Fuck, I don't even know what to say --"  
"Thank you?"

" _No!_ "

"You should because I was saving your  _sorry_  emo ass." He snapped, shoving me to the wall. Shaking his head, his hands jerked the lock open and he yanked the door. Without any more words, he stormed off and made sure to make his audible exit.

Every breath rattled past my lips as I tried to steady myself. Squeezing my eyes shut, I said weakly. "I didn't need your help, homophobic jerk."

*

"Hey, what took you so long?" Lynn yelled over the chants coming from our side of the bleachers who were cheering the school team on.

I shook my head mutely and sank down on the seat, even though everyone else was standing because the team had scored a point. After exploding on Brendon earlier it was enough to leave me feeling emotionally drained. Scrubbing the back of my hand across my face, I tried to focus on the game. It was a challenge as I had no idea how it worked and after five minutes my attention was wasted.

Halftime break rolled over and I decided to take this chance and ask Lynn whether she liked me or not so I could get over this awkwardness of being around her. However when I faced my left, to my horror I found her missing. I could've sworn she was there a second ago. With a frown, I began to stand up and craned my head in search of her.

Instead of finding her, I caught the sight of Brendon and his friends from the soccer team, fooling around with the girls from the other school. My stomach tightened while heat rushed into my cheeks at the sight of the boy I was in the restroom with earlier. Rolling my eyes, I continued my search for Lynn from my spot when I felt someone tap my shoulder.

"I got us some snacks!" The girl I was looking for was right there, holding a plastic bag containing couple of fruit and granola bars and two small cartons of milk. "What's wrong, Ryan?"

"Nothing." I lied, schooling my features into blankness. My eyes landed on the plastic bag. "Did you say snacks?"

She nodded and sat down. "You looked tired earlier so I thought these would help. Here." She handed me one of them and took another for herself. We ate the bars in silence as we waited for the break to be over. It was noisy and people were going up and down the bleachers, causing it to rattle from their steps.

Once I was finished with my snack, I stuffed the empty wrappers in the plastic bag.

Lynn gave me smile. "You must be really hungry to have finished those so fast." She mused and earned a laugh from me.

"Growing boys need to eat." I replied.

She passed me a carton of milk. "Here. Growing boys need calcium too."

I shook my head. "Oh no. I can't drink milk."

"Why not?"

"I'm lactose-intolerant." I answered and felt embarrassed. "And I didn't take my meds. But thank you for the offer." My eyes flickered to her face, watching for any signs that she might've found that funny but she simply looked at me like she was impressed.

"I've never met a person with lactose-intolerance. Didn't think that was real though."

I snorted. "Didn't your  _friend_  tell you that?"

Lynn shrugged nonchalantly, sticking her lower lip out. "My friend's right, though. You're cool to hang out with. Thanks for coming, Ryan." Her lips curled upwards at the sides.

I returned her smile before lapsing into silence as I debated whether to ask who her friend was or to find out whether she had a crush on me. Biting my lip, I inhaled. "So, Lynn. I was wondering how you met this friend of yours."

"He's your friend too." She reminded me.

"Yea, but I don't know which friend he is." I retorted.

"Do you want to know who?" She smirked.

I remained silent.

"If you must know, he's here at the games tonight too." She provided.

I sighed with exasperation, regarding her wearily. "That's  _really_  helpful."

"He was right when he said you'd be sarcastic when people are uncooperative with you."

A little lightbulb goes off in my head when she leaked that clue out. "So your -  _our_  - friend's a guy?"

"Hah, you're quick to assume that from my use of the pronoun aren't you?"

"So he's a she?"

"I was messing with you. He definitely identifies himself as a dude." She laughed, ducking her head down. "Seriously Ryan, it's not  _hard_  to guess who."

By then I was beginning to get ticked off that she was beating around the bush. For all I knew this friend didn't exist. Letting out an exasperated exhalation, I turned my attention back to the second half of the game that was starting already. "Maybe it isn't for  _you_  but I haven't gotten any more reliable clues." I retorted haughtily.

I was wasting my breath as she probably didn't hear me over the cheering anyway.

*

"So how was the games last night?" Patrick asked quietly during Biology as I poked a dead frog lying on the ceramic tile between us on our workstation with my scalpel experimentally.

"Terrible. I didn't even understand what the shit was going on." I mumbled, barely able to keep my eyes open past the drowsy feeling. "The game ended in a draw, at least that's what Lynn told me since I fell asleep near the end."

"Lynn?"

"Yea, some sophomore girl whom I met the other day at the library. I don't know but I'm starting to wonder whether she has a crush on me or not." I glanced at my worksheet then back at the frog and fought back the urge to cringe. "Why are we even doing this?" I asked.

"To look at the frog's organs?" Patrick suggested. "Ew, I think you're cutting it the wrong way."

"Do you think you can do better?" I questioned, handing him the scalpel.

He turned green for a moment. "Nope. No thank you." There was a pause as he thought of something. "I was with Joe last night."

"Joe who?"

"Joe Trohman."

Since I was too distracted by the frog to even recall who this Joe person was, I let Patrick continue without asking more questions.

"He seemed like a really nice guy. I mean he's funny, and has these really nice blue eyes --" He broke off to clear his throat. "We talked about video games and programming codes and ... uh, he kissed me." His pale cheeks flushed bright red.

I stopped short, surprised. Setting down my scalpel, I turned to look at him. "Wait, Joe Trohman as in -" I pointed at a guy across the room, "- that Joe Trohman?"

Patrick swatted my hand down, high color tinting his face as he glanced to see if Joe noticed. "Well how many Joe Trohmans do you  _know_?"

"I was  _shocked_ , okay?"

"Mr Stump and Mr Ross, could you please keep it down?" The Biology teacher, Mr Stoneworth, called out disapprovingly.

We mumbled our apologies before returning to our conversation in hushed tones. Patrick scowled at me. "Do you always have to be so loud?"

Without warning my mind flashed back to the time when I was in that restroom stall with Brendon. Embarrassed, my eyes flickered away from Patrick's. "I'm sorry. You were saying about Joe?"

"I don't know. I mean, he makes me feel less nervous when I'm with him." Patrick bit his lip, frowning. I could tell that he was unsure of himself; to perhaps pursue a relationship with Joe or continue to be hung up about Pete. He sighed, rubbing his eyes and then shook his head. "Let's just get back to work."

*

New faces were present at the Dungeon today. As I made my way to the seat at the back, I passed by a few freshmen and a sophomore. I didn't know their names and neither was I interested. It seemed that Brendon, Pete and I were the only seniors present

I didn't know what subject Mr Gittens - Theo - taught as he was always marking worksheets when he was here; I hadn't bothered to ask him. I was in the midst of finishing my sketch of Patrick when I saw in my peripheral vision of somebody pulling up a chair and sitting across my desk.

I looked up and found Pete. "Oh, hey Pete."

He waved and then his attention was arrested by my work. "Ooh, who's this?" He asked, cocking his head to have a better view.

I was mildly annoyed that he didn't recall my friend's name but then he didn't really know Patrick. "It's Patrick Stump."

"Oh that kid that stepped - Ok now I remember!" He snapped his fingers, grinning. "This is  _him_?" He added, this time in disbelief.

I glanced down at my sketch. The drawing and the real Patrick had a few differences. While Patrick usually wore glasses in the drawing he didn't, giving a better view of his features. While Patrick was always one for the sweet smiles, the drawing of Patrick wore a smirk like he found something amusing. The drawing had tousled hair that stuck up a little while Patrick's real hair was always hidden under his caps.

"You sure this is him?" Pete was still staring at the drawing.

"He tried a new look last summer." I said. "But he never really liked it, and the attention that came with it, so he went back to being a cinnamon roll." I said, smiling a little at the mental image of Patrick giggling. "Why?"

"I like the now Patrick Stump." Pete murmured, looking up at me with a quirk of his lips.

I froze, staring at him with my lips parted. "Seriously?"

He gave me a disapproving frown, thinking that my response was that of disagreement. "Why not? He seems much more comfortable in his skin. Besides, you said it yourself that he didn't like the --"

"How would you know if he's comfortable in his skin?" I demanded.

Pete's eyes were veiled quickly by his lashes as he straightened up, clearing his throat. "Look, that's just my observation." His mouth became a thin white line.

I wasn't sure what to say to that. I had a sneaking suspicion that Pete may have been noticing Patrick but for what reason? And even if he did start noticing Patrick, my friend might be already considering a relationship with Joe. The thought of me unintentionally becoming a middle man between the two made me feel uneasy as I didn't want to tangle with something that escalate into a complicated triangle.

Shaking my head, I returned to giving touch-ups to my Patrick sketch, not at all realizing that Brendon was watching me from across the room.


	13. 11

My boots left crunching noises as I stepped on the dry leaves that littered the sidewalk. I was on my way to a nearby public library to meet Lynn for tutoring.

She had sent me a text earlier asking me to help her out with some homework and insisted that I came right away. Since I had nothing to do other than wasting my time at home playing video games, eating and sleeping, I obliged to her request.

Entering the library, I made my way to the reference section where Lynn said she would be waiting for me. Sure enough, she was there with her head ducked as she wrote something furiously on a sheet of blank paper. I stood a little away, watching as she paused to think, referred to her textbook before erasing her work. She sighed and picked up her calculator when she noticed me.

A big, relieved smile crossed her features. "Ah, there you are. Come on, have a seat." She whispered audibly and gestured at the empty chair across her.

I took the chair and sat before looking at the piles of work she had and cringed. "How many days' worth of Calculus homework did you miss?"

Lynn gave me a sheepish smile. "Nah. These are for practice. I finished my homework while waiting for you so could you help me check them?" She slid her homework over.

My eyes skimmed over her working, narrowing when I caught a mistake here and there. Borrowing a pencil from her, I circled the solutions she miscalculated before handing her homework. "You can do better if you stop rushing things."

She gave me a baffled look before glancing at her papers. "Ah, yea. Careless mistakes."

I bit my lip. "Gunn, you're already good at this but you need to pay closer attention to your work. You need to work on your handwriting too."

"I know." She sighed.

There was a lull in our conversation as she continued practicing word problems. Feeling as useful as a banana peel, I got up and wandered around the reference section in search of something to read. A few titles of art books caught my eyes and as I reached to pull one out for the shelf to have a look, I was startled when the shelf jerked forward for no reason like someone had banged it.

I stared for a moment before peeking through the gaps of the books. Sure enough, I caught the sight of someone's back pressed against the other side. With an irritated frown, I rolled my eyes and walked around the shelf.

I really should've minded my own business because I was met with the sight of a couple making out. Hurriedly, I backed away only for one of them to break from their passionate tangle.

"Ryan?"

"Nope. Some random emo kid." I mumbled quickly that it sounded like I was trying to swallow back my words, turning my burning face away from Brendon's irritated gaze. His girlfriend, I assumed, looked pissed that I interrupted whatever they were doing.

But that wasn't why I wanted to escape from them.

Brendon was holding her the way he had held me two nights ago and it was doing no good for my mind as it kept flashing the memories of his hands gripping my thigh and his warm breaths on my skin.

I shook my head. "Um, just, uh, carry on with your - whatever you were doing. Good day." With my face breaking out red patches on my skin, I walked away quickly.

When I returned to the table where Lynn say she was staring at me with a funny look on her face.

"What?" I said defensively.

"Your face is red." She stated.

"Thanks."

An understanding expression appeared on her features as she glanced in the direction where I came from. "Ah, you must've seen those senior kids from school making out there, huh?" She waved her hand dismissively. "I'm surprised nobody's told them to take their session elsewhere yet."

I drew a shaky breath, pushing back the hair that was falling into my face. Clearing my throat, I twiddled my thumbs and watched as Lynn continued on her worksheets. Her ears were tucked under a pair of black headphones and I could hear metalcore leaking out from it softly; I wondered how she could focus.

"Don't stare at me. It's making me feel funny." Lynn said without looking up.

I snorted, rolling my eyes. "Says the girl who's probably enjoying my attention on her." I muttered under my breath.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she took her headphones off, narrowing her gray eyes at me. "What did you say?" She asked in a dead serious tone that instantly made me regret what I said, even though she couldn't have heard me over her music.

"My friends, uh, think that you might be having a crush on me?" I bit my lip, staring at her with my heart pounding in my chest.

She regarded me for a few moments, her facial expression blank, which caused me to feel discomfort. Then her eyes narrowed and her mouth began to curl into smile.

"Oh Ryan, do you  _seriously_  believe them?" She started to laugh, loud enough for someone to shush us. She stifled but soft snickers were escaping her lips. "Dude, I'm  _not_  into you."

I let out a puff of relief before I caught myself and realized it might've seemed rude. Then again, Lynn didn't care about reaction.

"I mean, you  _are_  cute." She admitted, twirling her hair with her pencil thoughtfully. "But you're not my type. I like girls." A smirk passed her features. "You don't look disappointed."

"That's because I'm  _gay_." I huffed, rolling my eyes. "So your female charms don't work on me, Gunn."

She shook her head, frowning amusedly. "I'm glad you don't, y'know, think of me that way. I mean, most guys do and it's kinda awkward telling them to put their guns back in the holster because this bullet here's into bullets." She pointed at herself with her thumb.

I had no idea what Lynn meant but I could simply allow myself to enjoy the cool sense of relief after getting over one of the mysteries of this girl.

*

When I got back home, I found my mother in the living room on her phone talking to someone - possibly a new client. Touching her shoulder in greeting, I pointed upwards to indicate that I'd be in my room. She nodded and waved me off, continuing her conversation on her phone.

Shouldering my backpack, I headed for my room and dropped the backpack on the floor beside my nightstand. After taking a shower and changing out of my clothes, I scrolled through my phone and clicked on my text messages.

The group chat named  _The Rainbow Trashcans_  that only Josh, Ray, Patrick and I belonged to was abuzz. I scrolled through the messages, reading what I missed earlier. There were discussions of Patrick's new high scores on some video game he played, Ray trying out a new hair product that Christa suggested and Josh complaining at length about how Tyler stole his socks.

Soon, I put my phone down and went downstairs to have dinner with my mother. We talked about stuff that happened today and somehow she seemed surprised when I told her that Lynn wasn't into me.

I shrugged, jabbing my fork into a tomato. "Good thing though. I wouldn't know how to deal with a heartbroken girl."

"You don't even know how to deal with a heartbroken boy." She said with a laugh, reminding me of Justin.

Once we were finished with dinner, I went back upstairs to read yaoi manga on my laptop while listening to Slumbering with Mermaids' earlier albums. Time ticked by and I found myself reading a strangely graphic  _Anxiety! At the Club_  fanfiction that involved a sort beverage when I glanced at the clock on my nightstand.

It was midnight.

Rubbing my tired eyes, I closed my laptop and placed it on the floor before curling up in my covers. It was only then when I was aware of distant music invading the walls of my room from outside. With a disgusted sigh, I cursed whoever was having a party on a school night and tried to get some sleep.

My dreams were then jarred by a loud rapping on my window. I frowned and sat up, wondering what was causing that sound when I jumped in fright, sucking in a startled breath. Since I hadn't closed my night curtains, the day curtains revealed a hunched human silhouette at my window.

Thinking it was a burglar trying to break in, I got out of bed quietly and picked up my baseball that was reserved for these situations. Carefully tiptoeing to the window, I braced myself and yanked the day curtains open.

Wide, surprised and bloodshot eyes stared at me.

"Brendon, what are you doing here?" I demanded, opening the window.

The brunet gave me a lazy sort of smile, giggling. That was when I smelled it on him. Alcohol. I backed away in disgust, shaking my head. "Have you been partying?"

"Maybe. Honestly, I thought this was Willow's." He hiccuped and poked his head in. "Can I come in?" Without even waiting for me to reply, he fell onto the floor with a loud thump and a high-pitched yelp, causing me to flinch for the fear that my mother would wake up from the noise.

"I didn't say you could come in." I scowled at Brendon grinning up at me from the floor. With a resigned sigh, I shut the window and pulled the curtains, both night and day, back in place and allowing the room to fall into darkness.

"Hey where did the lights go?"

I rolled my eyes and switched on my desk lamp.

"There it is!" Brendon exclaimed, clapping his hands. He was still lying on the floor. Since he was drunk and all, I couldn't just send him out or anything so I decided, reluctantly, that I should let him stay for the night. I'd have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow morning.

"What are you doing here?" I asked wearily, getting back in bed under my warm covers.

Brendon sat up, frowning. From where I was, shadows played on his features from the illumination of the lamp, making him look dark and brooding from this angle. He shrugged. "I dunno. I thought this was Willow's - that's my spanking hot girlfriend - house. Hmm, but I found you with that baseball bat instead looking like you've seen a ghost. Isn't that wonderful?"

I stared at him.

"Anyway, you have a nice case of pillow hair." He commented, causing my hand to involuntarily go up to my head. He laughed drunkenly.

"Where's the party?"

"Here. There. I dunno. I think it went somewhere but we won't ever know." Brendon was barely intelligible when he was drunk and it was making me lose my patience. "Damn, Willow's gonna be so pissed tonight. I promised I'd give her some."

With a disgusted sigh, I plopped back onto my pillows and shut my eyes. "Go to sleep, Brendon."

There was a soft chuckle before I heard him get up. Footsteps thudded before a weight sank beside me on my mattress. I jerked away, eyes lying open in mute shock to find him getting under the covers and snuggling. "What the fuck are you --"

"I'm not a dog. I don't sleep on floors." He said tiredly before turning to his side to face me. "You look like Buster - remember my dead dog? Yea - when he's about to bite someone. You're not going to bite me, are you?"

"I  _might_  push you off this bed." I inched away when he shifted closer. "Could you please respect my personal space?" I voiced irritably when I felt his hands brush against my side.

"We're sharing a bed, for crying out loud. Optimize the space." He stuck his tongue at me. "Now, cuddle me."

I felt my cheeks burn. "What?"

"Willow always cuddles me after sex, which I will be missing tonight."

"Well, first off I'm not your girlfriend --"

"What a shame. I'm really great as a romantic and sexual partner." He hummed arrogantly.

"-- and second, I didn't have sex with you." I tugged the covers because he was hogging it to himself. " _Stop_  that. This is my bed."

His soft pink lips curled upwards into a smirk. "Sure." He obliged, letting me think he was starting to show some respect to me when suddenly he threw his arms around me. I stiffened and made a choked noise, trying to wiggle out of his embrace as he tutted. "Now, now Ryan. Not a lot of people get the opportunity to cuddle with  _the_  Brendon Boyd Urie."

"I've forgotten how  _ridiculous_  your middle name sounded like." I hissed, barely able to keep my face away from his chest.

But he was already asleep, snoring softy into my hair. Sighing, I gave up squirming out of his embrace and rested my head in the space between his neck and his chest. The scent of him, faint vanilla, invaded my senses and I found myself slowly drifting to sleep in his embrace and warmth.


	14. 12

I awoke the next morning to the sound of my alarm clock with someone's foot in my face.

"Gah!" I jolted to full alertness, the sudden movement causing Brendon to jar awake as well and kick me in my face. I swore and swatted him indignation, which unfortunately meant I hit his ass. He made a shocked noise and kicked me in the face again before we fell noisily onto the floor on opposite sides of the bed.

"Well good morning to you too." Brendon huffed in annoyance as he peeked over the mattress, rubbing the back of his head. "I've got a really bad headache ... What happened last night?"

I rolled my eyes and got up without a word, yanking the curtains open. Not looking at him, I stalked towards the door and left the room. Ignoring Brendon's voice calling out my name, I hurried downstairs and found my mother sitting at the kitchen counter having a cup of coffee as she read the newspaper. She looked up at me and smiled. "Good morning, dear --"

"Mom, Brendon's in my room." I cut her off.

She stared at me with her lips parted, cup of coffee halfway to her mouth. "What?"

"Good morning, Ross household!" Brendon appeared at the door, smiling pleasantly. I didn't know how he managed with that hangover of his although there was no hiding the scratchiness in his voice. Alfie looked up and barked a greeting to him, loping towards him and giving him a lick.

That treacherous dog.

"Hello, Mrs Ross." Brendon grinned, straightening up after he gave Alfie a scratch behind the ear.

My mother hadn't gone back to using her maiden name since my father passed away.

"Ah, hello Brendon." My mother was too stunned to notice that he was calling her that as he used to call her Danielle back when we were kids. Instead, she gave me a look, a look that I knew the meaning to, and stood up. "Would you like some water?"

Brendon nodded and entered the kitchen, taking a seat at the kitchen table away from where I stood at the counter. My mother poured a glass of water before passing it to me. I stared at her protestingly before giving in and sulked as I gave the it to the brunet boy.

He smiled at me like the devil he was and drank. "I'm sorry I crashed out at your place." He said to my mother with a sheepish expression. "I really should get back home."

"Ah, I understand." My mother nodded and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Well, Ryan, why don't you quickly get ready for school and send Brendon back on your way to school?"

I inhaled sharply, staring at Brendon, who simply smirked and winked at me. Luckily my mother was behind me so she didn't see me scowl and mouth 'fuck you' to Brendon before I muttered, "Ok, Mom."

As there were times when I oversleep on school days, you could say I had gotten really good at getting ready in five minutes, flat. Once I grabbed my backpack and went downstairs, hair still damp from the shower, I shook my car keys to make a jangling sound. "C'mon Brendon." I exhaled, hearing the sound of footsteps.

Alfie regarded me curiously as he approached, sniffing my foot. Brendon followed after him, his eyes carefully averted. We didn't say anything, other than me telling my mother that I was leaving, and we were out of the house. Once Brendon and I were in my car, I turned on the ignition and allowed the engine to warm up while I connected my iPod to the car's audio system.

I could feel the weight of Brendon's curious gaze on me as I selected my morning playlist. Anxiety! At the Club's  _That Green Gentleman_ began to fill the car. I didn't know if Brendon had a problem with my song choices but then again it wasn't like I cared and that this was my car so it's my tunes or nothing. I hummed under my breath as I shifted the gear and reversed out of the driveway.

"So, I'm assuming you still live at the same place." I stated. "Big mansion, pretty garden --"

Brendon broke into a somewhat nervous-sounding laughter, shifting in his seat as he tugged his seatbelt strap absentmindedly. "Um, not really."

My eyebrows creased as I glanced at him. "No?" I was mildly surprised.

He nodded. "I don't really live there anymore. Moved in with my Aunt Marie about two weeks ago."

"Dad kicked you out?" I asked, remembering the nasty man his father was. Back when we were little, we used to hang out at the Urie mansion after soccer practice because it was the closest to the field than my house. There was one time Brendon and I knocked over one of his father's expensive vases by accident and let's just say that I was no longer allowed to set foot in his house.

The images of happy memories resurfacing in my mind brought a conflicting admixture of bittersweet feelings in my chest that were both painful and soothing.

"Eh." Brendon shrugged nonchalantly before giving me the address to his current place of residence with his Aunt Marie. As it was about fifteen minutes away from where I lived, that left room for a long conversational silence between us both.

The thought of that made me feel nervous and awkward to my guts. I often had a habit of talking if there was anybody present in a car with me but then this was Brendon, the guy who could make really scathing remarks with a pleasant smile plastered on his face. I didn't want to take my chances.

I didn't have to physically restrain myself from running my mouth because Brendon started talking first after seven unbearable minutes of silence.

"You asked me something last night." He began, face turned away from mine towards the window. "The party was a block away from your place."

"Oh." I bit my lip. "Did you park your car there?" While I wanted to get rid of Brendon in some way out of the sheer awkwardness that was choking the atmosphere between us, I didn't mean to come off as rude.

The brunet boy shook his head. "I was there with my friends to celebrate someone's - I don't remember whose - birthday party. Stupid of me, since I have school today otherwise I wouldn't be bothering you right now."

There was something in his tone that hit me hard, like he knew how much I resented him and was jabbing me with that.

"Anyway, it was fucking boring, if you were wondering. It's all the same, y'know, drunk teenagers doing all sorts of illegal shit. The music was awful too. I don't even know why I bother going."

"Peer pressure?" I guessed.

Finally, he faced me with his eyebrow arched. Then he narrowed his gaze. "You could say that." He fell silent, fiddling with a bracelet on his wrist before sighing. "Thanks for, uh, sending me home." He mumbled, pushing back the hair that was falling across his forehead.

"Technically, I'm doing this because my mom asked me to." I responded, turning a corner as we neared the street where Brendon now lived. It was only a few minutes away but still enough time for us to continue our conversation. "And you've given me a lot of hell last night so maybe I'm feeling really generous today not to sneak off to school without you."

"Yeesh." Brendon made a face at me. "You  _do_  know that this is the longest conversation we've had in a long time and you just had to straight-up be a bitch about it." He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Some things I won't forget." I said with an edge and Brendon didn't reply, instead wore a petulant scowl. I thought about what he told me and felt guilty about it so I decided to steer us away from the uncomfortable topic that was lying in between us like a live mine. "So that girl at the library, she's your girlfriend?"

Brendon paused, glancing at me. I didn't know what his expression meant and I didn't want to know either. "Willow Autumns." He confirmed with a quick nod of his head. "Why?"

"Curious." I replied flatly. "Is that the one?" I asked when we neared the street where he lived, pointing at one of the houses. Brendon leaned forward to get a better look and nodded, looking almost relieved that we had arrived. Something tightened in my chest but before I could register it, I pulled up the driveway.

Brendon unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door but stopped. He regarded me over his shoulder. "Thanks again, Ryan."

And that was that.

I watched as he made his way to the front door and entered. Not once did he look over his shoulder and the odd twinge in my chest made me wonder if I secretly wished he did. Shaking my head, I ran my hand through my hair and was surprised that they were trembling in the slightest. I exhaled and drove to school.

*

Usually I was able to pay the most attention to Art class compared to the other lessons I had at school but today I was feeling edgy and distracted.

There was a substitute teacher, Mr Leatherwood, filling in for Mr Tanaka. The man had an average built, coffee brown skin and a friendly disposition that made the students to warm up to him almost immediately. He was helping a few students out with the last assignment our Art teacher had left us to complete last lesson.

I couldn't focus on finishing my work instead stared out the window distractedly. I was jarred back to the present from watching a spider build its web on the window to the present when Mr Leatherwood cleared his throat in front of me.

"Is something the matter, ah, Mr - ?" His friendly baritone trailed off in a question as he regarded me.

"Ross."

"Mr Ross." He amended and took a look at what I was doing. An appreciative smile spread across his features. "That looks very good." He said, implying my work.

I shrugged like I didn't care. "I guess." I mumbled.

He left me alone to my devices when somebody called for him from behind. I followed after him with my eyes before he was out of my sight. Returning my gaze back to the spider, my mind drifted back to the conversation I had with Brendon earlier this morning.

 _You_ do _know that this is the longest conversation we've had in a long time and you just had to straight-up be a bitch about it._  I remembered his expression, the petulant way his lower lip stuck out, the annoyance in his eyes and the slight quaver at the end. I willed myself to recall every detail of that expression and glanced around.

Mr Leatherwood was attending to another student and seemed to be busy. I was certain that he had lost interest in me so if I slacked off for a bit he probably wouldn't mind. I took my notebook out and began to sketch.

The curve of Brendon's lips, the creases on his brow, the way his hair stuck in messy tousled strands and the expression in his gaze. Lines swirled from my pencil as I drew him. Soon enough I had my sketch of him finished. I stared at it but however much it looked like that boy there was something missing from it.

Something I couldn't place a finger on.


	15. 13

"No way!" Patrick exclaimed, holding his teddy bear tighter as he regarded me with wide disbelieving blue eyes. He shifted closer to me with interest, causing my mattress to sink slightly with his weight. "What was Pete like?"

The curiosity in his tone amused me but he couldn't be blamed for wanting to know the juicy details about his crush. Noticing my smirk, Patrick's lips folded and formed a thin white line. "I mean ... I was just wondering."

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head as I painted careful black polish on my nails. My friends and I were having a 'campout' at my place - for the lack of terms and Josh insisted that a sleepover sounded too mainstream for him that night. I was feeling particularly experimental that night hence the black nail polish.  _Red Night's_  music was playing softly in the background, filling up the silence I used to think of how to describe what it was like to hang out with Pete.

Chewing on my lower lip as I put the finishing touches to my black nails, I blew out an exhalation. "He was cool. A bit talky but not to the point that he's annoying. He also acts like a crazed fanboy sometimes but I know he's just excited. Hmm other than that, Pete's a really nice guy."

Patrick sighed, looking both impressed and a little jealous. "What I wouldn't do to hang out with him." His lower lip stuck out slightly.

"You could talk to him."

"Hell, I would but he just makes me so nervous I choke up whenever he passes by and goddammit that smile of his drives me wild I can't --" The strawberry blond broke off when he realized he was maundering. Clearing his throat, his arms tightened around his teddy bear. I had asked him its name once or twice when we slept over at each other's but I could never remember his teddy's name.

Patrick looked up at me with a rueful expression, which prompted me speak about the way Pete had stared at my sketch of him. "Um, so the other day at the Dungeon I was talking to Pete." I paused to assess my friend's expression. "Anyway, he saw me doing touch-ups of my sketch of you last summer and I could've sworn he looked interested."

"In the sketch or me?" Patrick asked then appeared as if he regretted it. "Wait don't answer that --"

"The party has arrived!" We jumped, startled, when my bedroom door flew open, revealing Ray with a huge grin and his arms outspread. He was dressed in striped pajama bottoms - something I didn't think I'd see a real person wear - and this t-shirt with a ridiculous statement that read  _Pugs, Not Drugs_.

Beside him stood Josh, busy texting on his phone dressed in basketball shorts and a plain blue sleeveless tee. Ray glanced over his shoulder at him and elbowed him. "Do the pose with me."

"Nope." Josh responded and ducked under Ray's arm, entering the room before dumping his drawstring bag on the floor beside Patrick's stuff. We exchanged fist-bumps when he crashed out on my bed beside me. Ray set his belongings near the door before he sat on the edge of my bed. In that moment, the bed was starting to get crowded.

Not that we minded in any way, as strange as that was. We had gotten used to doing this during the summer.

No words were exchanged for the about fifteen minutes until a strange sound broke through the silence. Josh straightened up and stared at all of us. "Did somebody fart?" He asked.

Patrick was starting to climb off the bed; this, of course, caused us to look at him. "I swear it wasn't me!" He protested, red-faced as he went to take his laptop from his bag.

"Boys?" We glanced at the door to find my mother peeking round the door with curlers in her hair and a facial treatment mask smeared on. "Friendly reminder that it's lights-out at ten for me. Try not to be too loud okay?."

"Alright." We chorused and she smiled at us before shutting the door.

"I didn't know curlers were still a thing." Ray mused.

"Of course you don't. Your fro's basically curl-tastic." I retorted playfully, earning a glare from my friend. We decided to play a few rounds of Mario Kart on mine and Patrick's Wii-U consoles, taking turns until the hands of the clock reached half past midnight - my eyes were refusing to stay open and the amount of socializing with my friends in one night was exceeding my energy levels. Like the good boys we were, we were all in bed. Well, not all of us since Josh and I took up my bed while Ray and Patrick slept on the futon mattress on the floor.

As it was dark and we were about to doze off, it was bedtime secrets session. We debated who would go first until Ray volunteered.

"I once thought you could get drunk from drinking too much water." He admitted.

"That's not  _even_  a secret." Josh complained and Ray swore at him in response. "Ok, my turn. One time during summer two years ago, I pranked one of the counsellors at camp. Snuck into his cabin, painted his skin green and duct-taped his feet together before I spread cling-wrap across his door. Then I set off the smoke alarm in his room so he was kinda pissed when he fell for it. Nobody - except you monkeys - know."

"Oh, I got one! Sometimes, I imagine the weirdest things." Patrick confessed. "No, not kinky stuff. One time, I've wondered what would happen if humans had feet for hands and tongues for noses and what we'd all look like."

"Okay that is fucking weird." Ray laughed. "Hey, what about you, Ryan?"

"Oh. Um." I fiddled with the edge of sheets absentmindedly. "My left leg gets aches when the weather is going to be bad."

"Bad as in?" Patrick questioned curiously.

"Like if the weather's going to be cold."

I felt Josh shift. "You've never told us what happened to your leg though." He said curiously.

"Josh, no." I heard Patrick start warningly. Out of everyone in the room, he knew me the longest so he knew what happened to my leg. But since Ray and Josh were my best friends too, I guess they deserve the right to know. After all, they had helped me when the pain in my leg was unbearable.

"No, it's fine." I drew a breath. "It was one rainy day. My dad and I were on the way to - I can't remember where - but I know we were going somewhere. It was pouring heavily and we were on a highway. I was busy telling my dad about something."

"He looked at me and I knew he was about to tell me off because it was  _that_  bad. And then the next thing I knew I saw blinding headlights before the car jerked to the side. I woke up to the smell of blood and my leg hurt so much like you wouldn't believe. My dad was beside me and he was unconscious but God, I swear the blood all over his head and dripping all over made me want to throw up. The next thing was just a blur but I recall hearing sirens. So after the accident, I was in and out of operating theaters while I was in the hospital."

"The doctor said my leg was hurt badly, particularly in the knee area, and I had to have all these surgeries to get my mobility back. But even after I had those surgeries, the doctor said I had to be  _extra_  careful with my knee. That's why whenever I run, sometimes my knee can't handle the motions and then it starts to hurt in the worst way."

The room was silent.

"You guys can say something now." I said, not liking how quiet it was.

Ray was the first to respond with a monosyllabic "Oh."

"I didn't know." Josh mumbled, sounding embarrassed that he even bothered to bring up this topic. I bet he was thinking that I hated talking about this but the truth was I didn't want to mention it too often. My leg was a reminder of what I lost and I didn't want to be reminded.

"We're sorry." Josh said.

I shook my head, turning onto my side. "It's something I have to live with but hey, it sure beats being confined to a wheelchair my whole life. Don't sweat it, guys." Not wanting anymore questions, I greeted them goodnight before curling to my side. I stayed quiet until I was sure they were asleep.

The whole time while I waited, I was hoping that my eyelids would grow heavy and that I'd slip into my dreams but my brain wouldn't stop flashing images of my father's last expression, the harsh glare of the OT lights and Brendon's eyes. When my alarm clock displayed  _01:54_ , I crawled out of bed silently and left my room.

The house was dark and eerily silent. Even Alfie was fast asleep on the couch, lying on his back with his paws up in the air as I passed by the living room. Sneaking out through the back, I decided to take a walk in the night.

It wasn't the best thing I should be doing at a time like this - as I could get jumped or worse - but I needed to get rid of the thoughts clouding my head.

The air was cool against my skin as I made my way down the street where I lived towards the neighborhood park. There were the noises of the night: the humming of insects, distant sounds of dog barks and somebody having yet another house party a few blocks away. A breeze had picked up, making me wish I had at least grabbed something warmer than a thin hoodie.

Shivering from the wind, I picked up the pace. I reached the park after about five minutes. I knew I should've been concerned for my safety at a time like this when darkness concealed nasty surprises but talking about my bad leg earlier left an urge to get out of the house for some air. Sinking onto a bench, I let out a breath and pushed my fingers through my hair.

I rested my hand on my left knee, trying to feel for the scar of the surgery that gave me back the chance to walk again after that horrific car accident I was involved in with my father under the fabric. I couldn't find it but the imagination of my flesh being cut apart to fix whatever was wrong in my leg made me feel nauseous so I stopped.

There were times when I wondered what life would be like if my father hadn't decided to hit the red lights and got him and his only son in an accident, what it would be like if Brendon hadn't told me to leave him alone simply because of my feelings for him and what it would be like if my leg didn't sustain the injury it had now. And one of those times was now.

The sound of a twig snapping from behind me jarred me back to reality. My heart skipped as I whipped around to see what caused the sound. From the dim illumination casted by one of the park's lamp, I could make out a humanlike figure in the trees. Swearing under my breath, I backed away quickly, eyes wide with fear.

"Wait Ryan, is that you?"

I sucked in a startled breath as the figure stepped into view under the light, wearing a confused expression.

"Brendon?" I exhaled in disbelief and surprise. "What are you --"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He questioned, raising his hands as he approached me slowly. Like me, he was wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt under a hoodie and sweatpants with flip-flops. I decided not to answer him and exhaled, trying to calm myself down.

"I don't know. Maybe you were pissing in the bushes because your toilet's clogged." I was barely able to keep the sharply irritated tone out of my voice. Brendon's eyebrows quirked upwards, the corners of his folded lips following the same arc as if he was suppressing a laugh; only his gaze belied the amusement at my comment.

Then, I watched as he smoothed his expression, almost effortlessly.

"Haha. You think you're  _so_  funny." He rolled his eyes at me. Now that I thought of it, I couldn't help but wonder if the way he acted around me was just a facade. If anything, I didn't voice my thoughts. Brendon pushed back the leaves out of his hair with annoyance and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I was looking for Hector."

"Who's Hec --"

"Aunt Marie's dog." He replied. "He's been missing for a few days. Sometimes, he wanders off from home so I thought I'd see if he was there." The worried expression on his face made me feel a little guilty for accusing him of peeing in the bushes.

I guessed that was my problem with him. I had always thought the worst of him ever since he broke off our friendship, hence a major trust issue.

I bit my lip, remembering how much he loved dogs and opened my mouth. "Well, I'm sure Hector will come back. Maybe he found himself a nice dog buddy and thought he'd hang out with them for a bit."

Of course I had to make a comment like that and Brendon's reaction further highlighted how stupid it sounded by folding his lips together into a thin white line and giving me this weird look. Fortunately, he let it slide and nodded. "I guess."

His next words surprised me: "This is going to sound weird but I'm glad I bumped into you tonight."


	16. 14

"You sure you don't want me to, like, send you home or something?" I asked out of desperation to get rid of the awkward silence that clung onto mine and Brendon's shoulders as we walked down the street away from the park. We had spent about ten minutes calling out Hector's name until we came to the conclusion that his aunt's dog probably didn't want to be found and that we'd probably be arrested for loitering by the cops patrolling the neighborhood.

Brendon flashed me an irritated look, which was a huge relief as he had been moving along with this blank sort of thoughtful expression. Rolling his eyes, he shrugged. "You really don't have to. I mean, you've done that last time and I'm sure you didn't enjoy my company." His casual tone belied the bitterness under his voice.

His comment made me wince inwardly. While what he said wasn't really a lie, it wasn't the truth either. For some reason, Brendon was starting tick me off as much as it used to - within the time frame of the first month of my senior year. Perhaps I was feeling this way since I talked to my mother about him or that I began to notice some changes in him.

No, it wasn't some attractive change in his physical appearance or whatsoever - if anything, he still looked as annoying as hell - but it was more in the way he behaved. Normally he would be a bundle of infinite energy bursting his way through his life, either cheering or pissing the fuck out of people around him, but recently I noticed the how tight his skin was over his cheekbones, the dark circles under his eyes and the smile that hid a sort of weariness behind the lips that curved upwards. He did preserve his usual exasperating self but it was lacking something that most wouldn't notice.

That and the fact that he had started to talk to me rather than stare warily across the room, which was something he did every single time we passed each other since my father's funeral.

Not that the change was all that observable or that I was some perverse stalker.

It was just that I paid more attention to him than I would like to admit aloud.

"... your friends?" Brendon's voice slowly came into focus, breaking me away from my thoughts. Belatedly, I realized he was asking me a question and blinked in a daze before frowning.

"What?"

Brendon gave me an exasperated glare and pointed at a house. I only realized it was my house after doing a double take and finding a tousle-haired Josh staring at the both of us from the front steps with his mouth open. If anything, I could tell he was surprised though I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.

"That's Josh." I said as we approached from across the street.

"I know." Brendon scoffed but stayed put on the sidewalk. I glanced at him over my shoulder with a question. "I'm going home now. Go and tell your boyfriend that I'm not making any advances to you; he does look shocked." He shooed me off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"He's  _not_  my boyfriend." I scowled protestingly but the brunet boy was setting down the street as if I hadn't spoken. With a disgusted sigh, all thoughts of Brendon I had earlier that perhaps he wasn't such a douche evaporated as I stalked my way to Josh. His surprised expression had smoothed away into that of a teasing grin.

"What?" I snapped with savage irritation.

"Y'know it's funny how you've started to get along with Brendon Urie, considering the fact that you have an aversion for him." He winked and elbowed me.

"We  _weren't_  getting along. I just bumped into him at the park." I said through gritted teeth. Fortunately, Josh was nice enough not to question the reason and we went back inside.

*

Shouldering my backpack, I wove my way through the oncoming flow of students heading towards the exit of the school. While I was sorely tempted to skip detention and head back home to relax, I really didn't want to add another day to spend in the Dungeon.

When I reached my destination, I was surprised to find a different teachers sitting at the desk where I would usually find Theo slouched over playing Sudoku.

The new teacher, a woman, looked up at me. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she eyed me up and down. At my face though, ahe narrowed her eyes disapprovingly and I knew that she was judging my eyeliner; most of my teachers did but they would never stare at me like some sort of strange specimen. She appeared as though she were trying to figure what type of trouble I had gotten in to get a ticket into the Dungeon and tutted. "Name?"

"Ryan Ross." I replied, biting my lip nervously.

She referred to the sheet of paper with a list of names, squinting. "There is no Ryan Ross, only a George Ryan --"

"Ah, that would be me." I said and immediately regretted cutting her off because the glare she gave me would've made me shat my jeans. It was only then when I realized smartphones, stacked on top of each other, sitting at the corner furthest from me on her desk. My throat dried up at the possibility that she was the type of teacher who would sweep mobile devices up and put them in the confiscated drawer till the end of the term - or worse, the year.

A smile crept up her face when she saw where I was staring. "Yes, that's right Mr Ross. You will be handing over your phone,  _if_  you've brought one. You see, I believe without distractions will help you realize what you've done wrong and keep you from repeating your mistakes."

"Oh." I mumbled, slowly reaching into my pocket. "Um, sorry, miss, but where is Mr Gittens?" I asked.

"He has been transferred to the music department. So you'll have to deal with me, Mrs Yew, if you may for the meantime." She referred to the paper once again and waved me off.

With a frown, I placed my handphone on her desk and asked, "Will I get my phone back?"

She didn't reply and I was tempted to take my phone back but then I didn't want to extend my sentence so I left it on her desk. Exhaling, I swiveled on my heel and walked over to the back of the room and sat at the table. Today, there were less people in the Dungeon; a few freshmen, a sophomore and I was only the senior here.

I didn't know any of the other students' names and as I was feeling rather awkward talking to them - they wouldn't like me anyway, more like they would steer clear of me. Pulling out my sketchbook and pencil case, I flipped the pages until I found a blank one and took a pencil.

I glanced up the wall clock above the whiteboard. I had about fifty-four minutes till my detention was over.

Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to doodling. I didn't really think of what I wanted to do, instead allowed my hand to guide me on its own accord. The lines that were created by the pencil soon began to take shape of something but before I could bring myself back to attention to see what it was, the screeching of chair legs on the floor interrupted me.

With a frown, I glanced up to find Brendon sitting right in front of me with his back facing me. I stopped short, wondering why on earth he wanted to choose that seat out of all the places he could pick. Some of the other students were eyeing him, an admixture of attraction, admiration and desire.

Surely Brendon could get along with them, could he not? He was fairly popular - in fact, most of the sports kids were - and he'd have no trouble making new friends. However, judging from the direction where his head was facing and his posture, he seemed busy with whatever task he was doing. Homework? I wasn't sure but neither did I want to find out. I was about to slide my things back into my backpack when Brendon sat up, craning his head.

I stopped, watching as he drummed his fingers on the table and turned around to face me, the sudden movement causing me to suck in a startled breath.

"I found him." He said, without preamble. Even if he did look like he had been missing some hours of sleep, he looked energetic and happy. It made me wonder what he meant.

"Pardon?"

"Hector." He grinned, brown eyes gleaming. "You were right. Hector was hanging out with another dog friend this morning; I saw him right outside across the street where I live. They sniffing each other's butts though --"

Despite myself, I felt my lips curl upwards. In that moment, I had forgotten how long I had resented him. Inwardly I was surprised but the sensation of being amused with Brendon muffled that. "Out of all the things you could've described, you chose  _that_?"

Brendon stared at me, lips parted. It was only then did I realized that I laughed and immediately closed my mouth. Clearing my throat, I schooled my features into a neutral expression. I cleared my throat and looked away from him. "How's Hector?"

He was quiet, apparently still taken aback before he said, "Uh, yea. He's a little dirty but he looks about alright."

"Oh, that's good to hear." I said, uninflected.

He bit his lower lip, lashes veiling his eyes momentarily. "Yea." He responded rather awkwardly. Cocking his head, he narrowed his gaze at something near my arms on the table. A choked sound escaped his throat and he regarded me with a mixture of emotions. "What's that?" He raised his finger and pointed at the sketch I was working on.

Raising my eyebrows at him, I didi a double take on my work. My heart skipped a beat and heat flooded my face. My hand quickly moved across the page and in an instant there was a ripping sound. Brendon made a noise of protest as he watched me crumple the paper. I glanced up at him, without any expression and shrugged. "It wasn't really good, anyway."

He looked as though he wanted to argue but bewilderment and doubt flickered over his features before he left me alone. Once I was sure that he was not going to turn back round and talk to me again, I smoothed out the paper.

The sketch looked a lot like a boy hugging his dog but I knew better. I guess I had been thinking about how Brendon would react when he saw Hector when I was drawing.


	17. 15

" _It's a_ party _, guys._ " Ray said exasperatedly on my laptop screen. His hair was done up in a bun to keep away the strands from falling into his eyes. He must've forgotten to take it off after finishing his homework before our video-call. " _It's an event where you're supposed to have fun_." He added.

" _But do we_ really _have to go?_ " Patrick asked, somewhat nervously, on the other side of the screen. He was frowning, shaking his head a little.

" _There was a reason why your friend didn't invite us_." Josh agreed. Only his side profile was visible while his eyes darted about and the sounds of clicking and his video game was heard softly in the background.

" _Could you turn that thing off?_ " Ray frowned irritably. " _You can't possibly be playing that silly MMORPG game while on Skype_."

" _Not to worry, my favorite 'fro boy; I happen to be really good at multitasking - FUCK! Did you see that?? That jerk practically KS'd me!_ " Josh exclaimed with utter incredulity.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Well, we'd all pay our month's worth of allowance but no we didn't see anyone beat the shit out of your avatar. We're staring at the side of your face."

Josh apparently remembered and from the harsh glow emitted from his other screen, I caught the faintest color tinting his sheets. With a defeated sigh, he took off his headphones and turned his other screen off before facing his webcam. " _Back to the topic of the party, why didn't Gerard invite us?_ "

" _He's totally fine with it._ " Ray protested. " _He said 'It's okay to bring your friends too. The more the merrier._ '"

"Merrier or not, I hate socializing in a place with too many people. Makes much more room for awkwardness despite the lack of space." I muttered.

" _Come on_." Ray sighed entreatingly. "It'll be alright. He invited some of the people you know --" He began.

"Who might not show up." I interjected.

"--  _and if they don't, Mikey makes the best brownies_." Ray reasoned.

" _That's_ if _he doesn't stuff weed in it._ " Patrick said. " _The Ways have a bit of a smoking problem, don't they?_ " He questioned skeptically.

" _That was last year_." Josh said. " _They kicked the habit when their mom found their pot stash under a loose floorboard_."

"And how do you know that?" I asked dubiously.

" _Frank Iero. Cutest guy you'll ever meet with the most sarcasm loaded in his five feet four being. It's a wonder how him and Gerard aren't at each other's necks._ "

" _That's cute_." Patrick grinned. " _They're like a sassy couple match._ "

" _So party or not?_ " Ray said before we could all continue at that vein.

I sighed. "Fine. But don't think I won't be out of the door in five minutes if the party is too much for my awkward emo being."

" _I'll go too then_." Patrick sighed. " _I don't really have much going on this Friday night. Can I bring Joe along?_ "

" _If you're bringing your boyfriend along, I'm asking Tyler to come with too._ " Josh smirked, stretching his arms luxuriously over his head.

"Am I the only one who's forced to bring a date?" I asked while Patrick blushed and spluttered, " _Joe's not my boyfriend._ "

" _It's settled then_." Ray beamed, glad that the matter's been resolved, and then checked the time on his phone. " _Okay, I gotta go now. It's past my bedtime. See you guys tomorrow_." He grinned and his rectangle went black.

Josh and Patrick did the same.

"So am I, like, supposed to bring a date too?" I asked at the empty screen. On my bed behind me, I heard Alfie making a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. I glanced over at my dog, who stared back innocently and began to chew on his toy, before turning back.

After a few moments, I told myself that I probably didn't need to bring a date to a party and because I knew I'd be required to spend the whole night with them which would definitely turn out awkward later on. Besides that, I didn't think anyone I knew would be interested in going with me as I ran through a list of people I knew - most of them were already in relationships or straight.

"Alfie, do you think I should be a single pringle at Gerard's tomorrow?" I swiveled round in my chair to face the Alsatian. The dog sniffed my feet as I propped them up on the edge of the mattress and proceeded to nibble on my toes playfully.

I laughed, shifting my feet away and rubbed his head affectionately. Messing with his fur and his ears for the fun of it, I left him be on my bed and exited my room to look for my mother.

"Mom?" I called out as I went down the stairs to the living room where she was watching a telenovela. A box of tissues sat on the couch beside her and her eyes were puffy and red. A knot of alarm and worry tightened in my gut as I approached her quickly. "Is everything okay?"

"Well yes, if only that Morrison boy had understood what Miss Parkinson was going through --" She broke off in her explanation and noticed my stare of incomprehension. "Climax of the season." She waved me off and then lowered the tv volume.

"Okay." I nodded, frowning slightly in bewilderment and wondering how my mother's shows could get her emotional.  I waited for her to calm down and for the commercial break to commence before asking her permission to attend the party with my best friends tomorrow night.

Of course, she asked me the regular questions such as who my friends were, where the party would be held and whether I'd be coming home after or crashing out at one of their places. I answered all of them and at last she gave me her permission but warned me to be careful otherwise I'd be getting on her bad side.

"Don't worry, Mom." I laughed, leaning my head on her shoulder as the tv broadcasted a shampoo commercial. "I'll be a good boy."

*

Patrick and I carpooled on Ray's ride to Gerard's house party. Josh wasn't with us as he told us he was going to be arriving with Tyler.

I was feeling aggrieved, finally regretting not bringing a date with me because Ray and Christa were talking excitedly about holidays in France while Patrick and Joe were chatting about computer specs and stuff. I simply stared out the window, repeating inwardly to myself that I wouldn't feel like a third-wheeler - or a fifth-wheeler, in this case - later when we arrived.

The driveway leading up to Gerard's house was parked with cars, presumably owned by the other partygoers so Ray had to park his car about a block away. As I clambered out of the car, I was relieved to feel the cool night air on my skin and the freedom that came after being released from an enclosed space.

Just then, Josh's car pulled up and parked right before Ray's and the owner and his boyfriend stepped out. Josh introduced us to Tyler, whom we hadn't had the pleasure of befriending him and my first impression of that boy was startlingly similar to the description of a 'smol bean.'

After that, we entered the house, squeezing past the sorry souls who hadn't had the decency to not block the hallway and found Gerard flirting with Frank in the kitchen at a quiet corner near the fridge. The two seemed to have patched things up together, very well if I must say because they hadn't noticed us standing there before them.

"Oh, hey guys. Welcome to my party!" Gerard said once he had disentangled himself from Frank's embrace.

"Okay just a few rules before I let you guys go. I'm assuming that there will be at least a few of you who will get laid tonight and seeing that my house has a couple of rooms to do so, I will not mind at all unless you decide to use Mikey's or my room. Those are off limits. Besides that, no breaking stuff and no taking a piss on my mom's garden. Now go enjoy yourselves!" He waved us off and then proceeded to make out with his boyfriend again.

My friends and their dates agreed that it was best if we split up and do what we wanted - I did  _not_  agree yet I didn't want to spoil it so I shut up - and watched as they all disappeared amongst the other partygoers.

I tried to ignore the painful sting of the awareness of being alone in a place full of people and amused myself by standing by the kitchen sink, staring out past the open doorway that gave me a view of the makeshift dance floor in the living room. I didn't even like the music but there was a sort of rhythm to it that made me bob my head along to it absentmindedly. While I was attempting not to look like a total dweeb I knew I seemed weird not to be enjoying myself someplace other than where I stood.

"Ryan! Didn't think I'd see you here." I glanced in the direction of the voice who called me out and caught a blue-eyed boy's relieved expression.

"Hey Spencer." I grinned, giving him a fist-bump as I leaned against the sink. "You were invited too?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I tagged along with a couple of friends." He paused, eyeing the place around for a few moments. "Lucky the Ways' house is big otherwise the probably would have trouble fitting in everyone."

"Seems like everybody decided to bring dates." I muttered, shaking my head at a couple, who planted themselves right across the counter where stood, making out unceremoniously.

"That and the Way brothers invited a hell of a lot of people." Spencer laughed. "You're single as a pringle tonight?"

I nodded. "You?"

"Same." Spencer answered before we drifted off into silence, watching other people have fun. He hummed, bobbing his head and tapping his foot to the music with a small smile on his face.

After an unbearable minute, I spoke up. "So, like, do you wanna dance."

His head whipped in my direction as he regarded me with a surprised sort of look on his face. He scratched the back of his neck, going red for a moment. "I dunno." He said bashfully.

I grinned, giving his back a pat. "Might as well anyway. We're here to enjoy ourselves so, why not?" Encouraged by my response, his face lit up and we looked at the dance floor once more like we were steeling ourselves to join the swaying crowd.

Then we headed for the dance floor at the same time. It was hard to push through the crowd to find a comfortable enough spot to dance without accidentally jabbing someone in the ribs with our elbows or stepping on someone's toes but we found a place somewhere near the couches which have been pushed to the walls to make space for the dance floor.

Spencer did some sort of awkward bobbing on the balls of his feet movement as he moved his arms to the music. My moves weren't so great compared to the other people and I was afraid someone would point and laugh at me but the moment I met Spencer's eyes, we laughed at how silly we looked.

The awkwardness began to wear off by the time the song ended and was soon replaced by a more track that had a faster tempo. I was enjoying myself and so was Spencer before I felt a sharp pain in my leg.

I bit hard on my lip from crying out and then excused myself to sit on the couch. Spencer, alarmed, sank beside me with an expression of concern; he must've seen my reaction. "You okay?" He asked.

I nodded, giving a weak sort of smile. While we weren't really close friends, I found it heartening that he chose to sit and wait for me to recover or something.

The pleasant feeling lasted only for about two and a half minutes when a familiar brunet greeted him and sat down right on the space between Spencer and I. Brendon smelled faintly of sweat but the scent of alcohol that clung onto his skin made me want to get up and leave. However, my leg wasn't cooperating, insisting on aching for a bit more so I was forced to endure watching Spencer and Brendon converse loudly over the music.

Something twisted in my chest achingly as a bitter tast rose in my mouth when Brendon made Spencer chuckle. It was an awful sort of feeling that made my heart constrict suddenly without warning. Belatedly, I was shocked that I had this sensation. With a confused frown, I resolved that it was best if I leave them be and return to the kitchen to look for something to drink.

Little did I realize that as soon as I headed for the kitchen, the brunet had stopped talking to Spencer and followed me quietly.


	18. 16

Once I managed to squeeze my way out past the writhing bodies on the dance floor, I made a beeline for the kitchen again. This time though, while both Frank and Gerard were nowhere to be seen, the place was now filled with people breaking out the booze on the counter. My nose wrinkled at the smell of alcohol as I inched past the revellers to grab myself a glass of water.

Someone from behind me called me a wimp for choosing not to join them. I simply ignored them. With my glass in my hand, I was about to flee from the kitchen to find someplace else to be alone when Brendon came along, grinning.

"Didn't think I'd see you here." He giggled, stumbling slightly as he approached me. He must've taken more of the shots because his breath reeked strongly of vodka. "Ryan Ross." He took a sip from his the red cup in his hand.

"Yea, that's me." I replied curtly and glanced past his shoulder. "If you'll excuse me." When I moved, he did as well. I shot him an impatient glare. "Brendon, please don't --"

"It's a party. You should have fun!" He drawled and broke into a laugh again.

"I don't want to have fun this way." My patience was already starting to wear thin dealing with an inebriated Brendon Urie for the second time in my life. "Now, if you could --"

"You can have some of mine." Before I could protest, he thrusted his cup at me. Some of the contents spilled from the sudden movement and though I jerked away, the alcohol soaked my shoes.

"Fuck! These are my favorite shoes!" I exclaimed angrily and scowled at him.

He simply smirked at me. "Oops."

I sighed with disgust, throwing my free hand in the air indignantly. "Please leave me alone." And without waiting for his response, I shouldered past him and stalked away from the kitchen and deeper into the house. The further I got from the living room, the less commotion there was. However, people had decided to take advantage of this by pressing each other up on the walls and making out.

Cringing, I hurried into a room, which seemed to be empty. Inside, it appeared as thought this was a study, seeing the large desk before the window and the shelves of books lining the walls. Beanbags and piles of books were scattered to my left. Setting my glass on the desk, I plopped down on the beanbag and sighed with relief. Even if the music could still be heard through the walls nobody was here to bother me, especially.

Staring out the window at the night sky where a crescent moon hung like a lazy-lidded eye, I pushed back the hair that was plastered to my forehead. After about three minutes of silent contemplation, I took my phone out and checked my texts. I was tempted to ask my mother to pick me up from the party but then I remembered she was out with her friends tonight and sighed.

I was on my own.

Finishing the rest of my water, I stood up and took a peek at the books the Ways had in their possession. It was mostly about architecture, I assumed those volumes belonged to their parents, when I came across the siblings' manga collection. With a small grin, I pulled one out and admired the cover. I flipped it open, perusing the pages when I heard the door click. My head snapped upwards, only to find a tall, lanky silhouette.

"Good lord, what are you doing in the dark?" The figure questioned and switched the lights on. It was Mikey. He was sweating, dark blond hair stuck to his forehead, and flushed cheeks. There were a few marks on his neck but otherwise he looked as if he had came here too to escape the party.

I held up the  _Dragonball_  manga volume in hand. "Hope you don't mind that I'm taking a look." I said.

He smiled, settling down on the beanbags. "I don't. But Gerard will - he doesn't like people touching his stuff." He picked up a book from the floor. "But you're lucky he's upstairs getting fucked in the ass by Frank somewhere in the house." He added as I was about to return the manga back to its position on the shelf. "Anyway, just don't ruin it so he won't realize."

I nodded and continued to flip through the book. We sort of lapsed into silence, only interrupted by the sound of turning pages. About ten minutes, I left Mikey be in the room and walked out in search of a bathroom. Sadly the one across the hallway was occupied and so was the one near the back. With a sigh, I snuck upstairs with the desperate need to relieve myself.

Fortunately, the bathroom to my left past two doors down seemed empty.

Unfortunately, I was horribly wrong.

My heart practically slammed right against my ribcage, knocking the air out of my lungs. The sight of the scene before me had caused shock to lock me in place where I stood, staring like an idiot. Heat seared my cheeks. "W-What the fuck??"

The shorter of the two boys sprang away quickly from their passionate embrace, wild-eyed while the other one simply scowled at me irritably. My eyes flitted between the both of them with utter disbelief.

Brendon's lips were slightly swollen and the top two buttons of his black shirt was undone, revealing marks on his skin that were presumably from Dallon. "Ryan!" He exclaimed, breathlessly, as he fixed his tousled hair, staring at me.

The sound of my name snapped me out of my shocked state and when I blinked, white hot rage flooded throughout me. All this time I had believed, to the point that it had ate me away for a long time, that Brendon was a homophobic jerk. I remember the pain I had carried around, watching him from afar as he had carried on with his life happily while I ached for someone to support me. And then just now before me he had been kissing Dallon in that sort of manner. Deep inside me, I felt betrayed! I was the one who told him that I had feelings for him only to have him push me away at a time when I needed him most and then shove this hypocrisy in my face in the most hurtful way.

I was vaguely aware of my whole body trembling with fury and me shouting at him with such savagery even Dallon appeared uncomfortable and fled the bathroom as I yelled at Brendon until my throat was sore. I didn't remember the exact words I had screamed but I remember calling him ugly names that I would never have used on anyone and storming away to throw myself into one of the bedrooms.

Clambering over to the bed, I began to cry into the sheets, not in the way when one would simply just let out muffled wails but in the manner of pitiful defeated sobs.

All I could think of was how Brendon had torn open the wound that I thought had healed, about how unfair he was being to me and how angry, confused and sad I felt. It made me want to kick and punch things but I felt emotionally drained in my futile attempts to ignore the raw pain in my heart.

How could he treat me this way?

Had he really had the cruelty in him to play around with me this way?

What was with the sudden change of heart?

When all the pent-up emotions couldn't be held back anymore, even as I clenched the sheets hard enough to rend the fabric, I yelled, "FUCK YOU, BRENDON BOYD URIE!" The effort of letting it explode out of me was gratifying at first before my throat began to hurt as I swallowed and my energy was spent. I didn't know how much time had passed but the door opened. I heard someone step into the room.

I didn't get off, instead rolled onto my back and looked at who it was. Immediately I sat up, feeling the swell of the earlier admixture of emotions rush back into me. " _Get out_." I growled.

Brendon paused in his tracks, regarding me with those brown eyes; they were devoid of any remorse nor guilt. He sighed and moved closer towards me round the bed.

Hurriedly, I scrambled off from the mattress, only to find myself directly in Brendon's path. He was still walking slowly to me, in the manner one would when would approach a frightened animal. I backed up against the wall, heart slamming painfully hard against my chest as my eyes locked on him.

He was now a foot away from me, staring up at me. "Ryan." He began placatingly.

"Get away from me." I said quietly, shaking all over. "I-I can't stand  _looking_  at you remembering what you said to me at my Dad's funeral and knowing what you did with Dallon -  _Don't_." I snapped when his hand was inches away from my face.

He simply exhaled, pressing his lips together and then placed his hand mutinously on my cheek. I flinched against it, half-expecting his palm to feel slimy and disgusting like the snake he was but I only felt his callused fingertips and his warmth. I would've let out another sob and lose my composure in front of him but bit down hard on my lower lip to prevent myself.

"You silly boy." Brendon whispered, shaking his head as he wiped away the tear that escaped my left eye. "Your eyeliner is running. Come on." His hand tugged my wrist as he pulled me towards the bed.

I was too tired and confused to even complain as he sat me down on the mattress, watching him mutely as he walked over to the dresser and retrieved a box of Kleenex and a bottle of makeup remover. He returned shortly after, sitting in front of me and setting the box on his lap. "You're lucky the Way brothers have some of these. Now, let's get you cleaned up." He said softly, taking a tissue and squeezing a bit of the remover before he placed a hand under my chin began to wipe my face gently.

Against my volition, I felt the tension escape me as the soft tissue and the cool gel slid down my cheeks repeatedly. A strange sensation of content overcame my senses as Brendon continued to rid the makeup from my face. Without meaning to, a soft exhale escaped me as my eyes fluttered shut.

"Yeesh, this is a heavy amount of eyeliner you use." Brendon commented with a soft laugh as he showed me the used tissue before crumpling and taking a new one and squeezing some more remover. "Your eyes are already nice enough so I don't think you need that much." He opined, now wiping the other side of my face.

And I stared him, wondering why on earth he was acting this way when I had basically insulted him in the worst way possible earlier. "Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?" I asked weakly.

He stopped trying to wipe my makeup off, regarding me with that thoughtful brown-eyed gaze. He said nothing and instead of continuing to clean me up, he crumpled up the tissues and threw them into the bin, placing the tissue box and the bottle on the floor. With a sigh, he looked back at me with an almost sad expression.

"Never mind." I shook my head, wanting to tear myself away from staring at him. But I could not. Scrubbing the back of my hand across my face, I ran fingers through my hair. "You're drunk anyway."

"I've sobered." He protested quietly in a soft petulant tone.

"No, you're still drunk. If you  _were_  sober, you wouldn't be so nice." I pointed out, without a trace of contempt in my voice but as if I were simply stating a fact. "You'd leave me be or you'd have laughed in my face for being so butthurt."

"But that's the issue, you see." Brendon said, shaking his head. "Ryan, what if I want to be nice to you because I  _want_  to?" He said.

If he had asked me this question at another time, at another place, I would either have laughed derisively or snap spitefully at him. Instead, I shrugged. I looked down at my hands, at my fingers which were slender and long and thought about how much I would give to have known if Brendon had ulterior motives. However the look on his face was unguarded, not marked with the slight tightness in the curve of his lips and the almost unnoticeable quaver in his voice when he spoke to me was absent. It was like his facade had gone.

But at the same time, I was wary. How much of this was acting? Back when he was younger, he used to make all sorts of stories and could make them sound like convincing and like they had actually happened. If he still had a habit of this, what's to say if all this was a ploy?

"Ryan? Ryan, look at me." I heard Brendon say in a soft pleading voice and slowly and tentatively I looked up at him.

A few inches of space was separating us and all we had to do was reach to close it. But we simply sat there, staring at each other. And then Brendon placed his hand once move to my cheek. This time, I didn't flinch away from his hand instead found myself resting my face against it. The heat from his palm seeped into my skin, releasing a sweet warmth to spread in my veins.

"Brendon." I breathed softly as I settled my gaze on him.

The corners of his lips curled upwards slightly as his eyes flickered. "Ryan." Then he was leaning towards me.

I only had to do the same and I did.


	19. 17

The kiss was nothing I had thought it would be. It started slowly with some amount of hesitation like he were unsure of what to do. I scooted towards him, pulling him to close the distance between us. My hand rested on his neck, right over where his pulse was beating at the same pace as mine.

The sweet warmth from his mouth on mine spread from my head to my toes, filling me with a dizzy sort of giddiness as he kissed back. A sudden heady rush flooded my veins when his hand slid from my cheek to the back of my head where his fingers tugged my hair. I could only groan against him in pleasure, the sound only encouraging him to slant his head at an angle that allowed him to kiss me deeper.

My arms were now draped around his neck, my body pressing up against him to close off whatever distance separated the proximity of our bodies. The scent of him that clung onto his skin, vanilla, was hazing my mind and all I count think of was  _Brendon_ _,_ _Brendon_ _,_ _Brendon_  as he pushed me onto my back on the bed and settled on top of me.

He leaned back down, but this time to leave a trail of kisses at the side of my mouth, down my jawline before he nibbled his way to my neck. I bit my lip as my eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, hands fisting at the fabric of his shirt. When his teeth nipped the sensitive spot near my collarbone, a sharp gasp escaped from me. "F-Fuck." I managed breathily, arching my back. The tight feeling in my crotch only intensified when he murmured my name sultrily in response.

Brendon chuckled softly into my neck and allowed his hand to trail down my side. As he reached the hem of my shirt, he tugged it a little to expose a strip of skin. Soon enough, I felt his fingertips slide into contact with my abdomen. I tensed at first before relaxing as he traced a pattern over my stomach lower and lower. At his touch, my hips bucked up involuntarily to meet his.

He paused, unsure of what to do. With a smirk, I placed my hands on his waist and guided him to do what I did, rewarded with a half-suppressed grunt of pleasure from him. A burst of exhilaration fluttered in my chest from knowing that I could make him feel this way. Grinning, I pushed him over to his back and climbed on top of him.

A soft whimper escaped him as I attached my lips to his neck, his fingers curling in my hair. "Just a bit lower, Ryan - Oh! That's it.  _Oh_ _fuck_ _, yes_." He moaned when I kissed him right where his pulse was located. My hand moved downwards, past his chest, his abdomen then to his crotch where there was already an unmistakable hard bulge straining against his jeans. My fingers fiddled on the zipper while he groaned under my kisses.

"I'm sure Gerard won't -  _Oh my Lord!_ " The sound of someone's exclamation of shock jarred us from whatever spell we were under. I jerked away while Brendon pushed me off him hastily that he sat up so fast he knocked his forehead on mine.

I cursed fluently at him, rubbing it indignantly when we turned to see Lynn staring at the both of us, wide-eyed and open-mouth. Behind her stood a girl holding a box, also regarding us with the same expression she wore.

Lynn alternated glances from Brendon and I before she came to awareness that she was intruding. "I-I'm so sorry." She flushed hotly, hand moving to cover her mouth. "But hi Ryan and whoever you are."

"Brendon." The brunet kneeling beside me muttered in what sounded like a displeased tone. "It's Brendon Urie."

"Right." She nodded awkwardly and shot me an apologetic look. "Um, anyway, carry on. We'll find another room to play Scrabble instead." Hurriedly, she shut the door with a bang.

It was only after she left did the full realization of what I had done with Brendon smack me in the face fully. I was in shock that I had allowed my guard to fall apart when his lips touched mine and lost my mind to the pleasure of it all. My breath caught when I glanced at him, horribly aware that what had happened wasn't a dream, instead reality.

"So, uh ..." Brendon began bashfully, regarding me through his lashes. "Do you wanna --"

A monosyllabic response was released. "No." I watched as his features flashed disbelief and something I didn't recognize as I clambered off the bed. "I-I can't." My voice shook.

"Why --"

"Just leave it for fuck's sake,  _Brendon_!" I snapped savagely and watched as he drew back, looking as if something had bitten him unexpectedly. A hot bubbling sensation of triumph percolated in my veins. Never before had I wanted to lash out at him for taking advantage of me in that way when I had been emotionally conflicted. Come to think of it, if that was his attempt to make it up to me for how he broke my heart, it was pathetic and weak.

He was still staring at me and it was because of that look on his face I continued in the same harsh tone. "Did you  _really_  think that what you did to me on that bed constituted as a genuine and sincere apology? Did you  _honestly_  think I could be won over with that make-out session? Even when you made me - God - moan your name, did you seriously think I'd forget what you did to me? Gosh Brendon, you're so  _fucking_  shallow and I didn't think you'd actually stoop so low." I spat and at each word he became paler and paler after each sentence.

By the time I was finished, I was shaking hard with burning fury with my hands balled tightly into fists that my nails dug into my palms painfully. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I tried to recollect myself but I was too angry to get a hold of myself.

Brendon didn't dare to look me in the eye, instead he squared his shoulders and tried to look as if my objection didn't bother him at all. He inhaled then raised his gaze; they were cold and full of contempt. Then he began to laugh derisively till his shoulders shook.

Immediately I was taken aback. Warily, I narrowed my eyes when my body tensed up with anticipation.

A grin pulled his lips in an upwards curve that it made him look wolfish. "Gosh Ryan, you're so full of yourself, thinking that kiss was for an apology. You're so  _fucking_  naive and wrong. To think I'd actually use  _my_  charms on  _you_  like that - you surely must think of yourself highly. Pathetic." He sneered and it was my turn to be stabbed where it hurt the most. "I saw the look on your face when you saw me with Dallon."

I inhaled sharply as pain erupted in my chest. As if from a distance, I heard myself say, "You're a big fat hypocrite, Urie." I whispered, unable to raise the volume of my voice any higher.

"Yea I did kiss Dallon. And I'll do it again, how about that?" He chuckled, seeing the expression on my face. It was honestly the worst feeling in the world, hearing him say that.

His malicious sneer curved even more as he leaned forward that he was encroaching my personal space. "He was a better kisser than you were." He whispered sweetly near my ear in a tone that dripped poison.

I was struck speechless, too much in pain and shock to even punch him like I wanted to about a minute earlier. My breaths came in fast and shallow.

Brendon drew back, his brown eyes gleaming triumphantly, before shouldering past me. Once I heard the door slam shut, I broke into tears. Gritting my teeth together didn't muffle the ghastly sobs that escaped past my lips nor did it help to dull the suffering I felt.

In a fit of self-frustration, I stomped over to the window, curled my hand into fist and punched the glass as hard as I could. It didn't take as much strength as I had used to shatter it into shards but it was oddly satisfying to hear it break. I didn't register the pain at first - just the burning feeling satisfaction at destroying something in my anger - and watched as thick scarlet liquid drip down my knuckles and stain my clothes.

I wasn't sure how long I had been standing there, relishing in the pain I had inflicted upon myself when Gerard and Frank stumbled into the room, tangled in a passionate embrace and drawing away only to find me staring at my own blood on my hands emotionlessly.

Gerard let a cry of alarm and quickly ordered his boyfriend to fetch the first-aid kit and call off the party. "What did you do to yourself?" He demanded worriedly, striding over to me and taking my hand. His hazel eyes flitted from knuckles to my tearstained cheeks. A sudden flash of sympathy crossed his features. "Oh my lord, no wonder --"

But I never got to find out what he wanted to say when Frank returned with a white box that had a red cross stamped onto it, looking worried as well, before he scurried out of the room back downstairs to shoo the partygoers out of the house.

Gerard hurried me off to the bathroom where he cleaned up my wound. Washing off the blood from my hands, he sat me down on the edge of the bathtub while he sat on the toilet seat, opened the kit and began used some antiseptic. The shock of earlier events had somehow dulled my response to pain so I didn't quite register the sting across my knuckles.

He tutted under his breath, examining my hand closely and sighed in relief. "You're lucky these aren't deep enough for you to need getting stitches." He told me like it was good news but I was too busy thinking. "Why did you punch my window?" He asked as he placed a sterile bandage over my knuckles carefully.

My throat closed up but I managed to speak, although my voice cracked. "I was just so frustrated at Bre - at  _someone_." I corrected myself hastily. "And myself, mostly. I dunno. I-I lost my temper and all I could think of was --" That was all I could say before the backs of my eyes began to sting again from tears threatening to spill.

I expected Gerard to get mad or something for trespassing his room when he specifically told me not to enter here, for breaking his window and for making him patch me up. Instead, he shook his head, lowering his lashes before he raised his gaze to meet mine. "Hurting yourself won't fix anything." He murmured gently.

I could only squeeze my eyes shut and the image of Brendon looking stricken when I lashed out at him rose unbidden in mind. "I know."


	20. 18

As Frank had already chased everyone away from the party - with a broom, he admitted - my friends, along with my only ride away from this place was gone. Gerard was kind enough to offer driving me home but he had done enough favors for me tonight. I turned him down, insisting that I knew the way back to my house and that I'd be able to walk back.

However in the end, Ray remembered that he had left me behind, calling my phone. I answered it only to hear my best friend asking so many questions at once that my head began to hurt within ten seconds of listening to him. "Ray, slow down. I'm alright, well, mostly."

" _What do you mean_ mostly _?_ " He demanded worriedly. " _Oh god, did somebody hurt you?? Patrick said that he thought he saw you going into one of the rooms in tears --_ "

"No, no, nobody hurt me." I exhaled loudly, pushing my hair away from my face as I watched Gerard, Mikey and Frank clean up the place with startling efficiency from the couch where I sat. "Listen, it's ... complicated - I'll probably fill you in on it later. Anyway, d'you think you could pick me up or should I just stay with Gerard and Mikey for the night?"

"You can totally crash with us." Frank grinned at me, passing me by as he swept the floor.

"Frank, it's mine and Gerard's house. Not yours." Mikey snorted, picking up the cups of alcohol left lying around. "But you're welcome to stay the night, Ryan. I'd be happy to share my room with you." He offered thoughtfully.

I told Ray about what the Ways had to say and he paused on the phone to consider it for a few moments. " _Nah, I'll come and pick you up. Just stay put, alright?_ " He said and hung up.

"As if I'm going  _anywhere_." I muttered, rolling my eyes as I shoved my phone back into my pocket. Not wanting to feel so useless, I offered to help the three boys out but they insisted they could do it by themselves. I suspected it was mostly because of my wounds but then it wasn't like the bandages were hindering me from curling and uncurling my right hand.

Feeling exhausted, I made my way the study. As this room wasn't messed by the party, I walked over to the beanbags and positioned them so that they lined up in a row. Settling myself on the makeshift mattress, my eyelids began to droop lower and lower until I fell asleep.

*

Ray had came to pick me up about half an hour after I had fallen asleep.

I began to strip off my shirt, wrinkling my nose when I saw where the blood stain was located and tugged my jeans off with some effort - I was beginning to regret punching the window - and was about to put on my pajamas when I stopped in front of the mirror.

There were purplish marks, kinda like bruises, on my neck. I stared at them, poking them to see if they hurt when my stomach lurched with realization. They were right on the spots where Brendon's lips had roamed on my skin from earlier. Heat rushed into my cheeks as my mind began to flood with unwelcome images of Brendon and I kissing.

Against my volition, I recalled how it felt to have his lips on pressed to mine, the thrill that sparked the blood in my veins and how his touch set me aflame with pleasure. I was horrified that I could remember such details and shook my head to clear my thoughts; it didn't work. Splashing water to my face, I wondered what had overcame Brendon tonight to suddenly have the gall to kiss and touch boys in that manner when he himself implied that being gay was a sin.

The more I thought about it, as I brushed my teeth, the more baffling the whole thing seemed. How on earth did his views change so abruptly and why hadn't I seen it coming? It could've been the alcohol, considering he had been a little tipsy. I shook my head once more, frowning at my own reflection in the mirror.

It's really too late at night to do this to yourself, I thought, just go to sleep. I emerged from the bathroom afterwards, heading back to Ray's room. Settling myself on the futon mattress beside Patrick, I stared up at the ceiling until sleep visited me once more in the darkness again.

*

Ray was kind enough to lend me some concealer - fortunately one that matched my skin tone - to hide the hickeys on my neck but came Monday and I was starting to worry about how fast these marks could go. As I applied the cream this morning, my mother knocked on the bathroom door. "Honey? Are you still in there?" She asked, sounding concerned.

I started, nearly dropping the tube of concealer. "U-Um yea, Mom. Just give me one more minute, I swear I'll be out." I promised, silentlu hoping I didn't sound too surprised to raise any suspicions. A few days had passed since the party and it was getting increasingly unbearable to keep hiding the bruising on my necks from my mother, unlike the wounds on my knuckles which she noticed immediately - I told her that I grazed them on the pavement when I tripped, a lie that didn't convince her entirely but successfully put her off from asking any more questions.

My mother said something in reply, probably reminding me that I'd have to hurry up if I wanted to get to school on time. Hastily, I rubbed the rest of the concealer on my neck and washed my hands. I went out of the bathroom and got my things before going downstairs.

As it was raining that morning, she insisted on sending me to school. I suspected that she still worried that I was hesitant - or scared - to drive to school when there was a shower. I tried not to show it, but even the distant flashes of lightning or the sudden increase of volume in the pattering of raindrops against the car roof would make my stomach clench involuntarily. I sat quietly while my mother lamented about how unreliable the daily weather reports were.

I was glad to feel solid ground under my feet when she dropped me off at the campus. The smell of wet pavement and vehicle exhaust invaded my nose as I got off the car, shouldering my backpack and drawing my hood over my head. A few people who were arriving as well were making an odd sort of jog-walk as they hurried to the shelter of the school. As I hurried over to the entrance, I kept my face lowered for the fear of running into Brendon.

Honestly, I would've been so much better off if I hadn't bumped into that bastard that night at the party. That, or if I hadn't attended the party in the first place; I knew I should've insisted to stay at home and finish catching up on that emotional  _Anxiety!_  fanfiction.

I was so caught up in my thoughts, I nearly walked into Jaime and his friend, Mike Fuentes, when I turned a corner on my way to the locker. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry!" I flushed.

Jaime patted my shoulder. "Nah, it's totally cool, amigo. Hey, so like are you still up for me to help you with Spanish?" He asked.

"Oh yea. Can you come over later?"

He shook his head. "I've got to help Mike here with his homework." He answered, glancing at his friend.

"He just wants to go over to my place to ogle Vic." Mike laughed and Jaime's face reddened.

"Don't believe him! He's lying. Really, Mike, what would your mother say?" He threw in a laugh to hide the fact that he was really embarrassed, giving Mike a slap on the arm that was too hard to be considered playful. Then he looked at me and frowned. "You've got a little something." He said, pointing at his neck. "It kinda looks funny, though."

My eyes flew wide in horror as my hand flew to my neck. I had been so certain I had covered up all the hickeys! With my face burning, I excused myself quickly and hurried to the restroom before they could ask more questions.

"Shit." I cursed, touching the now exposed bruise worriedly. Recalling how I had applied the concealer in a haste, I set my bag down and rummaged through it to find the tube, only to remember that I had left it in the bathroom. As I cursed under my breath and had panicked about how long it would take before someone else would start asking questions about it, the restroom door opened.

My breath hitched as I straightened up, only to find a confused-looking boy my age appearing as if he was planning to stay here and gather himself. I couldn't tell right away if he was in my year, neither could I recognize his face so I assumed he was a new student who had gotten lost on the way to class. I opened my mouth to say something but he spoke first.

"You have toilet paper stuck to your foot."

I stopped short, mildly taken aback. "What?"

He pointed at my shoes and sure enough I saw it. Flushing, I shook my leg until it came off before meeting his gaze again. He smiled.

"Are you new here?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yep. Had to transfer here to continue my senior year because I had to move with my family. Jon Walker." He said, sticking out his hand.

"Ryan Ross." I introduced myself and shook his hand, a bit surprised that it was warm and firm despite the rainy weather.

He grinned. "You have cold hands." He observed and I rubbed my fingers self-consciously. "But y'know what they say: cold hands, warm heart."

I flushed.

"Anyway, I've got to get to class but I got lost. Could you help me out?" He requested somewhat shyly.

"Sure thing. Which subject --"

"English Literature." He replied, referring to his scheduled which he had removed from his pocket and referred to it.

"With Mrs Oakley?" I asked and he nodded. "What a coincidence. I'm in that class too." I said, earning a grin from him. For some reason, his smile was contagious that I couldn't help but return the expression.

Jon was nice enough to wait for me while I deposited my things and took out the books I needed for the next two periods, despite my protests. We were making our way to English Lit when we passed by Dallon and Brendon.

As hard as it was to avoid looking at him, I found myself flitting glances at him as an awkward knot entangled itself even more when he caught my eye.

There was nothing in his expression that indicated he felt any remorse for what he had said to me that night, neither any sign that he remembered what he did. If anything, he held my gaze before we broke apart, him in indifference and me struggling to keep a straight face.

Jon was busy babbling away about how he found the whole school fascinating but for me, I was thinking about how to avoid him later during Gym period.

*

When I introduced Jon to the rest of my best friends later during Gym period, they were starting to get along pretty quickly. I couldn't help but smile as I watched Jon tell them a joke while I folded my clothes neatly after changing into my swimming trunks.

"And then I said 'Circles are the new squares!'" While the punchline itself was ridiculous, his expression was amusing enough to earn laughs from Patrick, Josh and Ray.

I turner around to put my clothes in my gym locker when I heard Brendon's voice over the general din of the place. My chest constricted painfully as I closed my locker and glanced to my right, only to find the owner of the voice approaching with Bob Bryar.

My hand fluttered up to the bruise on my neck to cover it, embarrassed and afraid he might see it and derive some sort of satisfaction seeing traces of him on my skin.

Unlike me, he didn't seem bothered to cover up the hickeys I left on his neck, unlike yours truly who had to rely on his best friend's concealer. I'd have died rather than admit this aloud but some part of me was admiring my work on Brendon's skin.

The brunet had his gaze trained purposefully on Jon, interest sparking behind his brown eyes. "Hey there, you must be new here." He said, cutting past Patrick's voice.

They stopped and turned to look at him. Jon had his eyebrows slightly arched but nonetheless, he looked curious about Brendon; he nodded, sticking out his hand. "Jon Walker."

"Brendon Urie." The brunet returned, shaking his head and gestured at the blond beside him. "This is Bob Bryar."

Jon waved at the both of them. "To what do I owe the pleasure of two of the school soccer team's company?" Upon noticing the two boys' expression, he chuckled. "Your pictures were tacked on the school achievement board at the admin so unless you've quit --"

Bob shook his head. "Oh no, we're still in the team."

"And we were wondering if you'd like to join us. Y'know, our squad's fun to be around with." Brendon added and I couldn't help but narrow my eyes at him into a glare, suspecting that was a subtle jab at my friends.

Jon shrugged. "I actually would. Like to join, I mean." He said and I felt my stomach flip over. "But then I'm more of a baseball guy. Y'know, whacking balls with bats than kicking them with my feet feels much more satisfying." He said lightheartedly.

All of us stared at him. Then, I couldn't help but let out a badly-suppressed snicker.

Jon flushed. "I mean, like I don't mean it in  _that_  sort of way - oh, gosh."

When Brendon cut a glance at me, there was a brief flash behind that incredulous gaze before he schooled his features convincingly into that of amusement - by God, that boy was a good actor. He smirked at Jon. "Well, if you change your mind, just look for me. Or Dallon, you won't miss him he's practically a blue-eyed giraffe."

Then he and Bob left but not before he locked his gaze with mine and turning back to his friends. I hadn't realized my hands were shaking at my sides because my mind was too busy trying to decipher what that look he gave me  _meant_.


	21. 19

"Alright ladies, no pushing and definitely no running unless you want to crack your pretty heads open." Mr Patterson barked at us in efforts to knock the warnings into our ears and to snap some of the boys from ogling girls at the other side of the pool. He looked especially comical in his canary-yellow swimming trunks so the effect of his words was lost on those of us who were trying not to laugh at his choice of swimwear.

He divided us three lines. Somehow when Jon stood behind me, it gave me a sort of nervous, prickly feeling on my back that made me feel self-conscious of myself. I tried to turn my attention to the Gym teacher as he walked up and down between them while checking off our attendance on his clipboard.

"Um, Ryan?" Jon asked hesitantly.

"Yea?" I glanced over my shoulder at him.

"Don't mean to be rude or whatever but did somebody karate-chop your neck?" He said.

Heat flooded to my cheeks as my hand went to cover the hickeys. At this moment, it was becoming a real nuisance as I noticed a couple of people frowning at that area earlier when we were heading to the school's indoor swimming pool. No doubt the concealer would was off in the water and I'd have to deal with more of the guys staring at me.

"Uh." I mumbled, turning my gaze away from him just as Mr Patterson passed by me. The teacher paused, checking my name off the clipboard while mumbling something under his breath. He then had a few words with Jon behind me before he dropped his stuff on a nearby bench.

Blowing his whistle to release a shrill piercing sound, the conversations around us quieted. As it was a ritual to do so, Mr Patterson took the old boombox and made us do warm-ups to yet another horrible Kidz Bop song.

"Aren't we like, old enough to listen to the non-kids version of these songs?" Brendon scoffed under his breath when we stretched our limbs.

"I heard that,  _Urie_." Mr Patterson glared at the brunet, who stuck his tongue out childishly when the Gym teacher had his back turned. Once we were done with the warm-ups he was approached by the girl's Gym teacher, Ms Lawley; apparently it happened to be something important because Mr Patterson's face screwed in irritation and he let out a huge sigh then gestured at us like he was saying "I can't leave these guys for more than three minutes."

Ms Lawley said something in reply and he relented before turning back to us. "Okay so Ms Lawley and I have to handle a few things - apparently, it's really urgent - so no funny stuff. And get your marshmallow behinds into the pool, we'll be doing our workouts once I get back." Casting one last glare at us, he and the other teacher marched off.

I turned around to gather with my friends and neared the edge of the pool, finding Josh carrying Tyler for no apparent reason, Patrick giggling to what Joe had joked about while Pete stared on some distance away and Ray talking to Frank whilst he gestured animatedly.

"So like when Urie said to talk to some Dallon person, did he mean that guy?" Jon asked me when I faced him, pointing at the two mentioned people and a couple of other guys who were taking the opportunity to flirt with the girls on the other side of the pool.

Brendon's girlfriend, Willow, had pulled him away from the group and looked like she was asking him about the hickeys on his neck. Brendon simply shrugged like it was no big deal and she exhaled and flounced off. I assumed either he gave her some shit excuse or lied about it.

Then Dallon broke away from the group to talk to him but he shook his head at him and went back to the boys' side of the pool, seeming like he had a million thoughts in his head.

"You haven't answered my question yet." Jon's voice broke into my reverie.

"Huh? Oh, um, yea the really tall guy." I said somewhat distractedly, more focused on Brendon pacing about.

"He has nice legs."

I whipped to stare at Jon, who was shrugging nonchalantly and saying, "Just an observation."

Before I could answer, a force from behind me knocked me forwards and I felt a sick plunging sensation, letting out a surprised yelp, when cold engulfed me whole. I choked underwater, kicking out blindly and flailing my arms before my head broke the surface. The cold made my teeth chatter and I looked around, yelling. "Okay, who the fuck did this?"

Immediately, Jon pointed when a boy crouched near the edge. "Oh my gosh, I didn't mean to --" Pete held a hand out with a look of horror.

I stared at him, aggrieved. "Dude!"

Then a voice broke through the silence. "Well, last one in the pool's a motherfucking shithead!" It was Brendon's and as if by magic, one by one boys began to jump in. Some pushed each other while others cannonballed, sending water flying in every direction.

*

"It's been fifteen minutes already and Mr Patterson hasn't gotten back yet." Ray said absentmindedly as he floated on his back.

"Seven, actually." Josh said, referring to his watch. "Usually you're not really concerned with Gym so why do you care?"

The curly-haired boy pointed at the group of boys all whooping obnoxiously a few feet away from us and jumping into the pool. "Someone might get hurt."

"Well, I'd like to see Brendon crack his head open." I mumbled exasperatedly when the said person did a backflip into the water.

Jon and Patrick stared at me, apparently disturbed about my comment. "You can't possibly mean that." The strawberry-blond frowned.

"And what did that guy ever do to you? You seem to dislike him." Jon said rather concernedly.

"It's ..." I trailed off, trying to find the words to describe the situation between Brendon and I without giving Jon the impression that I had some sort of romantic breakup with a jerk like Urie. "A long story but it's irrelevant."

"Also, your neck looks like it's been karate-chopped a lot. Are you sure you didn't get into a fight?"

I ignored Jon's question and sucked in a deep breath, diving underwater and staying there for as long as I could. To be honest, I really didn't want to think about Brendon or anything about that night in Gerard's room that could lead up to me imagining what could've happened if Lynn didn't interrupt. If circumstances had been different and that the guy wasn't Brendon, I was pretty sure I would've enjoyed my first time.

Although whether I'd be doing it as a top or a bottom, that remained a question as I surfaced to breathe before diving under again. It was getting increasingly harder to think as a few feet away from where I was, Brendon was swimming really fast like he was trying to show off, or whatever he was doing that annoying rapid kicking for.

Suddenly he stopped as I resurfaced. He looked like he was grinning although the question was why he was flailing his arms in the process. Belatedly, I realized that his expression was that of a grimace of pain and before I could react, Dallon was already swimming up to him.

Brendon looked like he was trying not to make a sound, wrapping his arm around Dallon as the taller boy shook his head with a worried look and helped him out of the pool. For a moment, it was hard to ignore the sudden uninvited memory of Brendon having his arms around Dallon that way when they were kissing.

It wasn't my business but, against my volition, my arms were already heaving my body out of the pool with my mind set on finding out what was going on. Dripping wet, I hurried over to where Brendon and Dallon was.

"Wentz, don't just  _stand_  there - get the towel." Dallon was saying to Pete before sitting Brendon down on the floor, tutting. "Honestly, Bren, what were you thinking swimming around like that and getting your leg cramped up for no reason? Now we have to bench you for tonight's game and bring in Nate Ruess to replace you."

Brendon glared at him when Pete handed Dallon the towel. He continued to stare his friend down, half in pain and half in aggrievement, as he wrapped the towel around his body. "I don't need your help, Dal." He mumbled, shivering as he drew the towel tighter.

The taller boy scoffed and glanced at me. "Hey you, help me massage his calf while I get Mr Patterson." He ordered bossily.

My eyes flew wide with incredulity; surely, he couldn't be asking me to do this!

" _Come on_." He snapped and with a dirty look, I marched over and squatted before Brendon, massaging his calf hard enough to make him yelp and almost kick my balls.

"Hey, easy there!" Brendon scowled as Dallon went to get Mr Patterson.

"Shut your mouth, Urie. Or do you want someone to shove a cock down your throat?"

Brendon scoffed. "Whose cock?" He hissed low enough for only the both of us to hear. " _Yours?_  Because if I recall correctly, you chickened out before you were about to --"

"Don't make me hurt your leg, billboard head." I glared balefully at him and he snapped his mouth shut, setting his mouth into a furiously thin white line.

I continued to knead his calf so his muscles would loosen when I heard footsteps approaching us and turned my head to find Mr Patterson, appearing pissed, and Dallon, white-faced.

"Very convenient of you to injure yourself before tonight's soccer game, Urie." Mr Patterson shook his head. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"You could send me off to the nurse's office to get something for my cramp and also consider putting Ruess to play my position like Dally suggested." Brendon said in a faux-cheery tone and his tall friend sighed exasperatedly.

Mr Patterson narrowed his eyes at him. "Ross, please bring him to the nurse's office."

"Sir, let me do it instead." Dallon protested. "I mean, I'm in much better shape to carry Brendon than  _Rose_." He added but not before he looked at me with what I detected as contempt.

Normally, I could care less about other's jabs at how skinny I was but because the memory of Brendon kissing Dallon resurfaced and the fact that he still insisted on calling me Rose made the words spill out of my mouth with a snap. "I can carry Brendon myself,  _thank you very much_. And it's Ross. Not Rose." I hissed.

"What's the difference?" Dallon sneered.

"I feel  _so_  present in the moment with you guys talking like this." Brendon said but shut up when all of us sent him a withering glare.

Scooting towards Brendon and hauling him roughly to his feet, I shot one last scowl at Dallon and marched Brendon out of the swimming pool. I never really thought about it most of the time but as I was nearly naked except for my swimming shorts, I was feeling the cold as I helped Brendon to the nurse's office. It was hard not to flinch away from his arm draped around me as he limped along.

Luckily our destination wasn't far. We reached there but when I pushed the door open, the nurse wasn't in. I cussed under my breath while I sat him down on the bed.

"I guess it's just us then." He observed.

I rolled my eyes in disgust at him but made as if I hadn't heard him. "Just sit here and wait for the nurse to return." My hand was already on the knob, turning it. I wasn't wild about the idea of sticking around in the same room as he was for the fear that he might choose to punch me verbally

"No please, stay." Had it not been for the tiny crack of pleading in his voice or the fact that there had been a knot of worry tightening in my chest when I saw him grimace, I would've ignored him and leave. Instead, I stood there with my hand clenching the doorknob while conflicts between the option to leave and to stay battled it out in my head.

Slowly, I looked over my shoulder at him.

His cheeks were flushed as his wide brown eyes regarded me from under the loose strands of his messy and wet hair. He looked so small huddled under that towel and when he was looking at me that way, something stirred in my chest.

Swallowing hard, I let go of the doorknob and sat down on a plastic chair facing him, crossing my arms and staring straight at him wordlessly. Unfortunately, I had chosen to wrong place to sit because the air-conditioning was blowing right at me and as I had nothing to shield myself from the cold I was fighting really hard not to shiver.

Brendon peered at me, his eyebrows arching, but I made no move. Instead, I sat rooted to the spot, which was a stupid idea. After about thirty seconds or so, he spoke. "You look cold." His soft voice sounded concerned.

I bit my lip but managed to frown at me. "You shouldn't worry about me." I said. "I'm fine." I crossed my arms but the moment my palms brushed my biceps there were already goosebumps under my touch.

He sighed and gestured for me to come over. "Here, I'll share my towel with you." He offered, spreading his arm while his hand held the edge of the fabric so it looked kinda like he had a wing.

I shook my head, setting my jaw stubbornly. I didn't want his generosity, knowing that accepting it would give me a sting in the ass later.

But he held my gaze and I didn't want to tear it away from him so we stared at each other for a few heartbeats.

"I won't let you catch a cold, Ryan." He said, not shrinking away when I glared at him. He was being as stubborn as I was. I had only two choices at this point: deny and suffer from a fever and a blocked nose later or accept and ignore how much I wanted to strangle him for hurting my feelings.

With a sigh, I stood up.


	22. 20

I'd rather throw myself off a bridge than to admit Brendon's body heat was doing a pretty good job at warming me up.

As I tried to ignore the feeling of his skin against mine, I stared fixatedly at the poster of methods of keeping good hand hygiene, reading the steps over and over again. "Why do you even want me to stay?" I asked when he shifted under the towel for the third time in the past five minutes. "I mean, it isn't like anything's gonna jump you and stab you on the spot." I added, quite sullenly.

He snorted and shook his head, turning his face towards me. "You'd love it if that happened, wouldn't you?" If it hadn't been for the bitter self-deprecating tone, I would've agreed to it.

Instead of pretending that he hadn't said anything I looked at him. "Even if I hate you, I wouldn't wish that upon you." I answered.

"Hate. Such a strong word." He sighed, pressing his lips into a thoughtful line. His lashes lowered. "Listen, Ryan. I ... I wanted to talk." He said quietly.

"There's  _nothing_  to talk about." I replied coldly and thought I saw him wince from the corner of my eye. "I'm not interested in knowing because it'll end up with us fighting and hurting each other."

"So you'd rather run away from your problems than solve it?" While words of the question itself sounded like he was challenging me, the tone of his voice was that of curiosity.

"You're not  _my_  problem." I stated haughtily. "And the reason why I'd rather not talk to you is because of what you told me years ago at my father's --"

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Good gracious. You can't  _possibly_  be holding onto that grudge until now!" He exclaimed disbelievingly.

"As a matter of fact, it's quite the contrary." I glared sidelong at him. "Brendon, it's not something I can forget just like  _that_." I said with a snap of my fingers.

"Okay Ryan, you have a point." He scowled. An awkward sort of silence settled itself quite comfortably between us, making the tension grow stronger and stronger. It wasn't me but him who broke it again. "My father's passed away recently." He said emotionlessly. "He had an overdose."

I turned to look at him, eyebrows arched in surprise. There was no way I could say "I'm sorry," because I knew how awful it felt having people coming up to you and expressing their condolences in that manner with that unbearably sympathetic look on their insincere faces. I bit my lip, fiddling with drawstring on my waistband. "Is that why you're living with your Aunt Marie?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yea. Since summer. So I'm practically an orphan now." He added.

My heart constricted painfully in my chest. I remembered back when he was younger I had asked him where his mother was and he ended up crying; he never said what happened but I had figured it was really bad. And even if his father was the person who taught him that homosexuality was a big sin, I couldn't help but feel sorry that Brendon had lost his last parent.

There was nothing I could think of to say to make him feel better. But there was an insistent tugging that urged me to me act on my feelings.

Biting my lip, my left hand moved from clasping my right on my lap to envelop his. He sucked in a sharp intake of breath and stiffened but didn't move. Slowly, he raised his gaze to mine.

And the look in his eyes, that broken sort of look he wore underneath his usual facade was visible. It tore into my chest and stabbed a pain that only one could feel when somebody dear to them was hurt. But he wasn't close to me, well not in the physical aspect, not anymore. But some part of me pained to see him this way.

Slowly, as if it had a mind of its own, my hand found its way to his cheek. His eyes widened for only a fraction of a second before I was leaning in the next.

His mouth softened against mine, kissing me back as a fluttering warmth swelled underneath my ribcage. His hand enclosed my wrist, sliding down my arm and leaving goosebumps in its wake before it had left my elbow and came to rest on my thigh.

I brushed over his lower lip and was surprised to find that it tasted salty; he must've cried when I didn't notice. The towel had fallen off from our shoulders when I moved my other hand to his nape, tugging softly on his hair. He groaned against me and touched dangerously close to my groin.

"Oh god." He panted breathlessly when I trailed past the corner of his mouth and was kissing up his jawline to his earlobe. "Ryan, I'm sor --"

I would've found out what he wanted to say while I nibbled on him had it not been for the doorknob jiggling audibly, announcing that someone was about to enter the room. As I sprung away from him to my feet, the nurse walked inside bearing a cup of coffee and a box of donuts.

She started when she saw the two half-naked boys in her room but maintained a somewhat straight expression. "And what do we have here while I was away on a quick break?" She asked, alternating glances at the both of us but I knew that she was trying very hard not to look at the old hickeys on our necks.

"He had a cramp on his right calf and Mr Patterson thinks he won't be able to play soccer for the school tonight." I answered hurriedly before Brendon could say anything. "And yea, I'll just be on my way." Without waiting for her to ask me if I, too, had any cramps, I went straight for the door. Just before I closed the door behind me, I caught the sight of Brendon staring at me, looking rueful.

As I jogged down the hallway, all that I could think of was how scared I was because of how easily I had lost myself into that kiss with Brendon.

*

As I didn't want to entertain any questions from Mr Patterson about why I had missed nearly half of Gym period, I decided to seek refuge in the shower area. Standing under the steady stream of warm water above my head took the tension away from me as it washed the chlorine off my skin but it didn't do so much as strip away the ghost of Brendon's hand on thigh.

I brushed my fingers over that spot now, thinking that if the nurse had entered a bit later, he would've been palming me. The imagination of him doing so, while the memory of his touch the night at Gerard's party was still fresh in my brain, brought heat to my cheeks as an ache tightened at the pit of my stomach. Even though I was currently occupying a closed shower stall, I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder to see if anyone was there.

Certain that I wouldn't be interrupted, I let out a soft breath and closed my eyes.

In my mind's eye, I was back in the room with Brendon that night; we were making out and I had him pinned beneath me while I was unbuttoning his jeans. He'd let out a needy moan against my ear, pushing his hips up against my hand on him and begging me to spare him from the teasing touches. I'd pull away, smirking at how flushed he was from anticipation and nibble his neck before palming him through the fabric of his boxers whilst grinding against his leg to relieve myself.

He'd be pleading, slipping his hands underneath my shirt before his tugging would make me draw away from him to take my shirt off. Once I'd exposed my upper torso to him, he'd be sitting up and attaching his lips to my collarbone. Leaving sloppy yet heated kisses on my skin, he'd go lower and lower till he reached above my heart. With a sultry look, he'd soon be pushing down onto the pillows, this time giving me the treatment I gave him.

I'd be moaning, tugging his hair while his tongue licked over my skin down my abdomen. He'd smirk up at me and remove my jeans slowly just to keep up the exquisite torture. Once that was off, he'd divest himself of clothing as well until he was clad in boxers as I was. It would be so difficult to watch him do so as my hand would keep going for my throbbing cock but he'd gently smack my hands away.

"Please, Brendon." I'd beg and he'd only grin before leaning over to kiss me. And I'd be distracted by his lips on mine while his hand slipped my boxers off, only moving back to pump my length. Moaning from the pleasure he gave me, I'd be so intoxicated with feeling that I'd encourage him when he drew away from me, moved back and lick the tip teasingly.

My fingers would grip the sheets hard enough to tear through the fabric as his pretty pink lips wrapped around me, moving up and down in a rhythm --

A particularly loud moan escaped my lips as I came undone in the shower when voices began to fill the then empty shower area. Blinking the water out of my eyes, I cleaned up as quickly but it was quite an effort as I was a bit lightheaded from my orgasm. Once I was done, I grabbed my towel hanging off the stall door and stepped out.

"There you are!" Jon came up to me, patting my shoulder. "We were wondering where you went." He said as Ray, Josh and Patrick approached.

"Oh, I was ..." My cheeks began to burn at the thought of what I had just did. "I was constipated." I lied.

"Yikes." Josh commented with a wince. "You really need to stay hydrated." He added and I was relieved that he actually believed me.

Then they hurried off in search of a vacant shower stall or to wait for one to become unoccupied so I went back to my gym locker to get dressed. Drying myself off completely, I threw my towel over my shoulder to the bench behind me. Putting on my clothes, I soon heard people talking a few rows down.

Though I didn't mean to, I was listening in.

"I know, Dallon. Oh god, I can't do this to her anymore. Not since - I can't stay with her."

"Brendon, you have to do it soon. The more you put it off, the harder it'll get."

There was resigned sigh. "D'you think I should do it after school? I mean, I'm going to be missing the game tonight."

"Yea. But no funny business, alright?"

"I'm so fucking nervous. What if it goes horribly?"

"Brendon, I have complete faith that you'll nail it! Come on, you're good at talking - there's no you're going to flop."

"I guess you're right." I heard Brendon chuckle. "What would I do without you, Dallon?"

It was only when Jon went to his locker beside mine did I snap back to reality, aware of how the knot in my chest tightened from the way Brendon said the last sentence to his friend.


	23. 21

"Don't worry, Mom. I can look after myself." I said, leaning against the doorjamb while I held the phone to my ear after my mother called in to tell me that she would be coming home late from work to meet with her clients and discuss about their legal cases; convenient timing on a Friday night. "Bye, Mom." Hanging up the phone, I exhaled and entered the kitchen in search of food.

Alfie poked his nose in between the gaps of my legs as I bent to see what was inside the fridge to get some idea of what I could prepare for dinner. If it were entirely up to me, I'd probably spend the whole evening at one of my friend's but I was they were busy today. There wasn't much stuff I could use to cook up something to eat later and I decided I should go and buy some groceries.

Stroking the back of my dog's ear, I went back to the living room and took my laptop from the coffee table. Launching my browser, I had a look on what Hot Topic's website had on offer instead of researching for my Geography homework.  _RVME_  was playing from my phone on the table as I clicked on a few interesting-looking band merchandise and examined their prices. Beside me on the couch, Alfie had been lying with his head on my thigh when his ears perked up.

Knowing that this meant my dog heard something, my attention was drawn away from my laptop when the doorbell rang. I frowned bafflement, wondering who it could be when Alfie scrambled off. I stood up and approached the door. I wasn't planning to open it because I didn't want to entertain anyone and I didn't want to rush upstairs to grab a shirt. I rubbed my nose irritably as my dog sniffed the gap between the door and the floor.

I checked the peephole, only to do a double take at the sight of the person standing outside. My heart was thumping really fast, bringing heat up to my cheeks as I struggled between answering the door and going upstairs to hide in my room.

On the other side of the door, Brendon rang the doorbell once more and there was a rustle of footsteps on the doormat, indicating that he was either tapping his foot or shifting about. It was a bit of a surprise seeing him here on my doorstep looking for me when I had been doing my best to avoid him as much as I could for the week; it was selfish but after hearing him and Dallon, distancing myself from him was the least I could do to keep the knot from twisting in my chest seeing him and Dallon hang out.

"C'mon, Ryan, please be home." I heard him say in a soft tone like he was pleading me to do it, even though I was fully certain he didn't know I was behind the door.

Slowly, I raised my foot backwards, intending to walk away when I sneezed loudly. Immediately I began to curse myself inwardly for the horrible timing; Brendon had heard me and was knocking now.

"Ryan, are you there?" He asked.

Alfie began to bark, wagging his tail and scratching the door with excitement. Fighting back to urge to yank my dog away, I tried to shush him but that only made him yap louder.

"Oh, for God's sake!" I exclaimed and opened the door. "What?" I scowled impatiently.

Brendon's eyes widened momentarily in surprise before he straightened hastily. "Oh, hey."

"Hi." I replied, still staring at him expectantly. "What is it?"

"I thought I'd visit." He began, letting out something that sounded in between a cough and a chuckle. He cleared his throat. "Because I wanted to talk. Again."

"You're talking now, aren't you?"

He bit his lip, confidence visibly wavering as a flush started to tint his cheeks. "Like, a serious talk."

I stared at him.

He sighed. "Okay okay. It's fine if you don't want to do it now. I mean, I can see you're pretty busy yourself right now tending to your needs." He gestured at me.

My stomach lurched precariously when I remembered that I wasn't wearing a shirt. My face burned but I didn't make any futile attempts to cover myself up. "I'm not busy at the moment." I mumbled, flushing hotly.

"Oh." He said then straightened from his slouch. "Then, is it okay if I come in? It won't take long, I promise." He added.

With a sigh, I opened the door and moved aside so he could step in. Right after he had set foot in my house, Alfie leapt up at him with his tail wagging very fast. Brendon stumbled from my dog's weight but righted himself quickly before he could fall and managed a laugh as he patted the Alsatian affectionately.

I had to resist the urge to scowl in disapproval at my dog. Excusing myself, I hurried upstairs to get a shirt, reaching for the plain white button down that was hanging on my doorknob. Putting it on, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen.

I probably shouldn't have bothered but I found myself making coffee. Holding two steaming mugs of the liquid, I went to the living room to find Brendon staring thoughtfully at a family picture taken ages ago when I was eleven. He didn't even notice me as I set the mugs down on the coffee table and went up to stand beside him.

I was wondering what was on his mind when he started upon realizing that I was looking at him. He cleared his throat and glanced away but not before I caught red tinting his cheeks.

"You made coffee?" He asked, taking a seat on the couch.

"Yea." There really wasn't any choice for me but to sit with him on the couch although I did leave a considerable amount of space between us. The fact that I was sitting this close to him was making my heart beat at a fast pace against my chest. Not knowing what else to do, I buttoned up my shirt.

Pressing his lips together, he turned to me. "Thank you. For the coffee, I mean. Even though I don't like drinking it."

My eyebrows shot up in faint surprise. "You don't?"

He shook his head, looking sheepish. "Anyway, that's not really what I'm here for. Wait, where's Danielle?" He asked, only realizing that my mother wasn't present.

"She's at work."

"Oh." He looked thoughtful for a moment, going so still that I was able to register that faint red color on his cheeks wasn't from his blush, instead was set in the vague shape of a hand.

Against my volition, I raised a finger and touched that side of his face but he flinched, despite the fact that I had done it as softly as I could. I stopped short and frowned. "What happened to your cheek?"

His skin reddened, making the mark stand out even more. "A gift from Willow, actually." Upon seeing my alarmed expression, he shook his head and fiddled with his fingers absentmindedly. "She didn't take my words like I thought she would so, yea." He said with an uncomfortably casual tone.

I stared at him. "Is this what you and Dallon were talking about in the gym lockers the other day?" I asked before I could consider myself. There was a slightly audible gasp from Brendon as I became aware of what I had said.

"You were  _listening_  in?" He sounded both surprised and wary.

"Well --" I struggled, face burning with guilt. "I didn't mean to." I mumbled apologetically.

"It's ... It's fine. I was probably talking louder than I thought." He insisted tentatively, the fiddling movements of his fingers increasing, and we fell silent as awkwardness had our throats in a vise; it was broken when I cleared my throat.

Brendon seemed to have gathered himself once the quiet was over. Straightening up, he faced me with a determined sort of look in his eyes and said, "I was wondering if it was the right thing to do. Breaking up with Willow, I mean. We've been dating for about a year."

"Did you have --" My breath caught unexpectedly, "-- any feelings for Willow?" I finished.

That was where he started to look even more guilty and his fiddling fingers were now clasping one another. "That's the thing, you see. It's gotten to the point where she's infatuated with me. And ... I feel awful because I can't reciprocate. That and Dad really liked her before he --" His voice cracked. "Anyway, I wonder if he's watching me now and if he's disappointed in me."

"Why would he be?"

Brendon sighed, scrubbing his palms over his face before pushing his hair back in frustration, causing his quiff to become messy and out-of-shape. "You  _know_  how my father looks -  _looked_  - at me." He began and my shoulder tensed, knowing what he'd say next because I had heard it too many times back when we were younger.

"I'm the reason why Mom passed away when she gave birth to me. He already thinks I'm bad luck for the woman he loved away from him. You know how  _hard_  I used to try to please Dad so he'd pay more attention to me instead of throwing himself into work." He said bitterly, eyes shining with tears. Blinking hard to force himself from crying, he sucked in a deep breath. "And I remembered how disappointed he was in me and he tried to 'fix whatever's wrong with me.' At that time, all I wanted was his love so I thought doing what he told me to would set things right.

"I did what he wanted me to do - y'know be 'normal' like he said - but it made me feel guilty for playing with the feelings of the girls I dated. That's why I stay with them for longer than three months. Don't get me wrong, I do love Dad but at the same time I hate him for not being a good parent; he didn't accept me for who I am and tried to force his notions on me.

"But God, when I introduced Willow to him, he seemed pleased with me and during that time, he was actually seeing me like he should - as a proper  _son_. That's why I feel guilty for breaking up with her; specifically because I gained his approval by being with her." There was a bitter hunger to his words when he said that. "Anyway, he always had trouble sleeping because of stress and I think he didn't read the label properly so ... he took too many at once and then that was that. I still don't know if I feel relieved or grieve but the weight was off my shoulders for the first time in my life."

He turned his misty gaze to mine, biting his lip hard. I didn't know what to say to him, or do, to make him feel any better about how conflicted he was feeling. Summer had been about one and a half months ago and the amount of time he had spent feeling this way ... it was enough to drive anyone mad.

And yet there he was everyday since school started with that facade on his face like nothing had went wrong.

And now I was feeling guilty for being so hard on him at a time like this.

 _But don't you think he deserved it?_  A small voice spoke at the back of my head.  _An eye for an eye. Where was he when your father passed away? Breaking your heart. And now that his father's gone, being mean to him was the least you could do to settle the score between the both of you_.

I shook my head, wanting to clear myself of such thoughts. Even if I did agree a little with it, I didn't think he deserved to suffer the same way as I did. Maybe I was being too emphatic or there was something else but when Brendon's tears threatened to spill once more, I shifted closer to him and held him.

He tensed against me in shock before he put his arms around me, burying his face in my neck. The fabric where his cheek rested became damp as he cried silently on my shoulder, his body trembling.

And there I remained keeping him in my embrace, struggling to breathe properly from how tightly he was holding me. Not once did I mind, though.

He didn't have to know that my chest was hurting so much for him in a way I never thought was possible.


	24. 22

Even though I had lost my appetite, I managed to pull myself together and went out to buy groceries so I could make dinner. I assumed Brendon was still on my couch back at home, having fallen asleep after he had calmed down. Not wanting to wake him up, I had snuck out of the house and drove to the supermarket.

As I picked up the ingredients I needed to cook, my mind wandered off idly to the boy who cried in my arms and held me like his life depended on it. I hadn't realized how Brendon had lived, trying to please his father and mask his true sexuality in the process. Regarding this, I recalled the day I told Brendon that I liked him then and couldn't help but speculate whether this had anything to do that particular homophobic remark he had made on the day of my father's funeral.

If so ... did he have any feelings for me? Did his own words hurt him as much as he brandished those knives to set emotional scars on me? Did it kill him little by little everyday?

My pulse could be heard in my ears as I contemplated. If it was possible, I felt even sadder when my mind came upon the countless of what-ifs and possibilities. Maybe my feelings for him had long been buried or forgotten but thinking about him didn't stir up any resentment instead it dragged up a hollow ache in my chest for having wasted years hating him.

Okay, my anger  _was_  justifiable but somehow it didn't seem so important now that I could see what was the probable reason. Yet he could've chosen another time to break me,  _couldn_ _'t he_ , I thought as I queued up at the checkout line. As I paid the cashier and collected my bags of groceries, I didn't even realize a girl waving at me until she stepped right in front of me.

"Ryan! You look miles away. What's on your mind?" Lynn asked, the smile she was wearing earlier wiping away to reveal the concerned look in her wide gray eyes.

I shook my head, biting my lip. "It's ... nothing." I lied rather unconvincingly.

She stared at me for a few moments before she snapped her fingers as though she remembered something. "Ah! Since you haven't guessed who our mutual friend is, how about we go look for him?" She suggested.

The Brendon matter clogging up my thoughts was momentarily dispelled as interest in knowing who her 'friend' was sparked. With a skeptic frown, I said, "Is he here?"

She nodded. "I think he's probably looking for ice-cream - Oh! There he is!" Her face lit up with bright recognition at someone over my shoulder and beckoned them over while pointing at me.

Mystified, I turned around and nearly dropped my bags. "Patrick??"

A bemused-looking strawberry blond approached us both with a tub of passionfruit-flavored ice-cream in his hands. "Um, hi Ryan. And, Lynn, why are you --"

"So it was  _you_  who told Lynn about me!" I exclaimed, unsure of what to make of the sudden revelation. Now that I thought about it, whenever I talked about Gunn with my best friends, Patrick never seemed to be present. I didn't know if I had to classify this as shady behavior but then again, his absence was always related to catching up with his academic subjects.

Patrick was looking at me funny before he glanced sideways at a grinning Lynn. "Wait, didn't she tell you that --"

"No!" Both her and I said, me expressing it indignantly while hers was a laugh. I rounded on her with a disbelieved air.

"Lynn!" Patrick exclaimed, sounding almost like he was telling her off. "Why didn't you tell Ryan it was me who suggested to tutor you for Calculus?"

The blonde simply smiled sweetly at the both of us and shrugged. "Would it make a difference if I did?" When Patrick and I spluttered, the curve of her lips widened further. "Come on. Think about it. Patrick's told me you complain a lot --"

"I don't! I'm an  _opinionated_  individual!"

"-- and I know I can be annoying sometimes. So I thought it'd be better if I didn't mention who our friend was so I could spare Patrick from your complaints." She added in a vaguely sheepish tone.

Patrick seemed offended. "I don't mind if Ryan complains about anything!" He protested. "Well, I do  _sometimes_  and it's irritating but I'm glad that he talks about what's bothering him instead of bottling it up."

"And you really should have told me because I don't like being kept in the dark." I snapped irritably.

Lynn now looked apologetic. "Ah well ..." She mumbled, abashed.

It was very childish of me but I was feeling very annoyed with her antics and wanted nothing more to stay away from her for the meantime. Excusing myself, I marched off and stalked back to my car.

Rubbing my face, I was aware of how fast and how many times my mood had changed today and wanted to take a break from my emotions for a bit. Cranking up the stereo, I blared  _Stab The Helmet's_  songs on the way home.

Pulling up the driveway, I was gathering the bags in the boot when Alfie's barks were heard from the backyard. I stopped and frowned. Wasn't my dog indoors earlier? Taking the groceries, I entered the house and headed for the kitchen only to find Brendon bringing the Alsatian inside.

Briefly, I was taken aback. "Didn't you go home earlier?" I hadn't meant to but my voice came out sharper than I intended to.

"No. I didn't want to leave your house unlocked without anyone home." He said, unable to meet my eyes because of the wary glare I was giving him. "What?"

"Nothing." I mumbled, putting the bags on the counter. "The universe is throwing stuff at me today. That's all."

He nodded, leaning against the doorjamb. "I see." He acknowledged quietly and lapsed into a thoughtful silence. I wanted to ask him why he hadn't gone home yet but decided against it after some thought. If he wanted to leave, he would have done so earlier.

As I reached for a pan, I asked, "Do you want to stay for dinner?" I didn't know why I even bothered but he hadn't annoyed me the way he usually did so I guess that was a contributing factor.

His eyebrows shot up in astonishment at my question and I saw him hesitate visibly. "If you don't mind, then, yea?" He sounded unsure of himself. "Well, I'm sure Aunt Marie won't mind since she'll be home late. Wait, you're cooking?" He arched his eyebrows.

I snorted and held up the wooden spoon I was holding. "No, I'm going to use my magic wand to conjure up food." I said sarcastically.

He opened his mouth to say something before a scowl settled itself on his features. Shaking his head and muttering a few words incoherently under his breath, he walked up to me and glanced at the ingredients on the table. "Then let me help you. Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"You look like you're expecting me to poison you." He protested.

"Don't be  _ridiculous_." I scoffed and held his stubborn gaze as a silent sort of argument was exchanged between us. After a few moments, he narrowed those brown eyes and I faltered with a resigned sigh. " _Fine_."

He stuck a tongue out at me and I couldn't resist giving him a cuff upside his head indignantly. Unexpectedly though he laughed, causing and a warmth burst in my chest. And somehow, I found myself grinning like an idiot.

*

So far, the first two minutes had started off well as both Brendon and I rustled around the kitchen for the utensils we needed and placed the ingredients on the counter. It was pretty much argument free until I told him to cut the onions.

"Do we even need onions for spaghetti?" He questioned, eyeing the bulbs with distaste as I handed him the knife and the cutting board.

"It's my Mom's recipe, okay?" I scowled in disapproval as he shook his head and pushed the onions to me like they were dangerous. "Don't be a pussy, Brendon."

"I'm not a cat or a vagina, alright? And I'm not cutting those up." He said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"I thought you said you wanted to help!" I exhaled irritably as I filled a pot up with water. By then, I was starting to doubt that I'd be able to get through this without arguing with him.

"I did! But I don't like cutting onions." He stated with that fucking attitude of his. Shaking his head, he looked at my pot and gestured at me. "Let me boil the pasta instead."

I flashed him the finger, jerking my head at the onions which lay beside the garlic on the counter as I brought the pot to the stove and turned the fire on. "Okay, you do the garlic and I'll handle the onions, if you're so scared of it." I sneered at him while opening the pasta packet and earned an aggrieved scowl from Brendon who looked like he wanted to argue.

Begrudgingly handing him the garlic, I went to get my own knife and board before peeling the onions. We were working across each other at the counter so if I glanced up in the slightest, I'd see whether he was doing a job or not. His features knit with concentration as he smashed the garlic with the flat of his blade.

A smirk played on my lips. "Are you mad?"

"What? Oh no." He shook his head. "I'm smashing these because it'll easier to remove the garlic skin." He replied and peered at me while I chopped up the onions, unbeknownst to him that I was fighting back the sting that the onion fumes were giving me.

"I knew that." I muttered as my eyes began to water from the onions. I sniffed quietly, blinking hard to resist the tears but that only made it worse. I could feel him staring at me and I didn't want him to know the suffering that the bulbs were giving me so I focused hard on dicing. A soft snicker told me that I was unsuccessful at hiding it and I scowled up at him. "Shut up, billboard head."

"Sure, Randy." His eyes were crinkled at the sides from laughter, shoulders shaking from the effort to stifle his chortles. "Aww, are you feeling emotional?" He teased childishly.

"Mind your own business!" I snapped, flushing hard, and flicked a few onion dices in his direction. He let out a giggle as he ducked away and threw some of the garlic at me playfully in return before I told him off for wasting food. Afterwards, he went to check on the pot before placing pasta in the boiling water while I opened a can of tuna flakes and readied the tomato puree.

We were working along seamlessly, which was a nice change, and soon we had the sauce simmering. My stomach growled at the scent of food but I kept my face neutral as I noted how hungry Brendon  who was eyeing the cooking food dreamily.

My eyebrows furrowed when I saw the red stain on his t-shirt and shook my head, tutting. He faced me questioningly when I pointed at him. "You've got the tomato --"

He let out an irritated curse, glaring down at himself. "This will take ages to come off. Oh well." He sighed. "It's fine." He said, waving me off while he stared at the stained fabric ruefully. "It's not like anyone would care." He added but I was already leaving the kitchen.

"Wait there, I'll get you something to change into." I called over my shoulder and heard him protest. Pushing my bedroom door open, I went straight for my closet and grabbed the nearest t-shirt I could get my hands on. It was only when I held it up did a small jolt travel up my spine.

It was the very same  _Anxiety! At The Club_  shirt I had refused to lend him. That memory felt like it had happened ages ago. Somehow I realized how silly I was for not letting him borrow this t-shirt simply because he called me Randy, an old term of endearment he used to give me because he used to say the way I ran reminded him vaguely of the purple lizard from Monster Inc. I began to wonder if things would be different between us if I had chosen to ignore that ridiculous pet name before I shook my head. Biting back the tiny swell of guilt I folded it hurriedly and swiveled on my heel.

Only to find Brendon behind me.

I jumped, startled, and swore at him. "I told you to wait."

"I did. But I came upstairs to check on you." He said, ignoring my sharp glare. "You were standing there for about five minutes staring at that shirt and I thought something was wrong." He added with a concerned tone.

I sighed, feeling my chest constrict. "I was just thinking." I answered, shaking my head.

He raised his eyebrows questioningly and I was arrested by the urge to tell him about how I would've lent him this shirt back then if he had said my name right. Deciding it was ridiculous to even voice it out, I simply held it out to him and pretended nothing was wrong. "Here."

He only gave it a glance before shaking his head. "You can talk to me, if anything's bothering you." He said quietly, placing his hand under my chin and pushing upwards gently so that I was looking at him and not at my feet.

Where his skin came into contact with mine, I felt it burn. Not in a bad way but it was the kind of hot sensation that was accompanied with a stirring in my chest, an admixture of aches, longing and desire. It was a foreign yet familiar feeling. Slowly, I let my gaze drift from his wide brown eyes to his slightly parted lips. Against my volition, my mind began to recall how warm and soft they were on mine and how swollen and pink they were when I kissed him hard.

Heat rushed up to my cheeks and when I glanced back at Brendon, he seemed to be reacting in the same flustered way I was as if he sensed what I was thinking. But he didn't back away, instead dropped his question to barely above a whisper. "What is it?"

I tried to answer but words couldn't pass from throat which was tight with a certain hunger. "Y-You have no idea how I -  _how much I want to kiss you_." I managed in a voice that sounded low and raspy to my ears.

I heard him inhale sharply from hearing me and noticed how fast his pulse was hammering at his throat. The knot in the pit of my stomach was tightening at the tension between us that it was starting to hurt.

And then he leaned close to my ear. "Then kiss me the way you want to." He whispered, letting his palm graze my cheek. Involuntarily, I shivered at his touch and allowed a soft groan to escape from me.

My hands went to cup his face before I moved to kiss him, relishing the intoxicating warmth that rushed in my veins from having him on me. His mouth was hard from surprise before it softened and molded against mine. I nipped him experimentally, earning a satisfying and muffled moan from him.

His hands roamed all over my body, down my neck, over my shoulders and to my sides where he dragged me carelessly to close the distance between us. I could tell from his needy whines that he wanted more with the way he was pushing his tongue into my mouth. Sliding my thigh in between his legs as I drifted away from his mouth, I snuck my palm below his waist, pushing it against his crotch; I was rewarded with his hands gripping my hips tightly in response.

"Get on my fucking bed." I growled throatily and he obeyed, pulling me down with him onto the mattress that sank with our weight.

As soon as I attached my lips to his neck, he let out a soft giggle and tugged my hair to urge me on. "Just a bit lower, to the left - Oh fuck yes -  _right there_." He panted, squirming under my body while his bulge constantly brushed against mine.

"Goddamn it Beebo, stay sti --  _Oh_." I moaned against his skin when he tilted his hips at an angle to meet mine and sent tingles of pleasure through me. Unable to bear it when he pushed himself repeatedly on me, I rolled onto my back and allowed him to settle on top of me, enjoying the new form of pressure on my crotch.

Brendon was unable to hide the way he was feeling. He let out grunts that came in sync with my whimpers as he grinded himself against me, swearing and saying my name under his shallow breaths.

Just as he had slipped his hand into my jeans, a loud sound and a vibration against my thigh interrupted us. We started in surprise when Brendon drew back and fished around his pocket to retrieve his phone. He only had enough time to glance at the screen before declining the call.

That made me feel oddly flattered, knowing that he chose me over whoever it was. "Who's that?" I asked softly.

"Eh." He grunted and reached over to place his phone on my nightstand but I got my answer right away when my eyes followed it.

 _Giraffe boy_ _Dallon_  was the caller.

 _He was a better kisser than you were._  Unbidden, Brendon's words spoke loudly in my head, sending a sharp pang in my chest. The boy was already sucking my neck gently when my hands were on his chest, pushing him off. He made a shocked noise at the back of his throat, brown eyes flying open to stare at me.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He was asking worriedly when I wriggled out from under him, unable to accommodate his body on mine.

"I --" I was robbed of my ability to speak properly from the anxiety. "I need to check on the spaghetti." The lie tumbled out of my mouth as easily as I clambered off the bed. He stared after me incredulously as I rushed downstairs, the conflagration still burning beneath my skin from his touch.


	25. 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's one homophobic slur here so

Dinner with Brendon was an awkward and uncomfortable affair. We practically ate in silence, not saying a single thing to each other. The whole time I kept catching him looking at me, only to glance back at his food and shovel it into his mouth when my eyes met his. The amount of times I had caught him staring at me made me feel really self-conscious of myself, perhaps even more after the fact that I nearly had sex with him, again, sunk in.

Never have I wanted to punch myself, and Brendon, in our fucking faces to relieve the tension that was strangling the atmosphere between us.

Once we were finished with dinner, Brendon offered to help me again. Sensing that he might have an ulterior motive, I waved him off. "I can handle it myself, thanks." I said, somewhat annoyed that he was still lingering around like a lost puppy. "I'm sure your aunt's waiting for you back home."

"Want to get rid of me so soon?" Even though he was using his usual cocky tone, there was something to his voice that didn't really convince me this attempt was fullhearted.

I didn't answer, instead responded to him with my silence as I did the dishes. The sound of running water and plates clinking filled in for my lack of reply. He was still waiting for me to say something, though, watching me from the corner of his eyes as he leaned against the countertop a little away from me.

Sensing his hesitation to leave, I glanced at him. "What?" I asked.

He shook his head and straightened up. "Thanks. For dinner, I mean. It was really good."

Even though I knew that he was probably buttering me up, I couldn't help but feel a small rush of pride. "You're welcome." I said coolly.

He moved closer to me. And I was ignoring it, that wringing feeling of anticipation and hopefulness in my abdomen. I knew he was leaning towards me because I could smell the scent of him and feel his warmth radiating off his skin. I didn't dare to look at him, instead scrubbed the dish I was holding harder even though it was already as clean as it could get.

However, I gave in to temptation and turned to him. The proximity of our faces had stolen my breath, leaving me to struggle with being lightheaded.

His lashes veiled his eyes momentarily before he tilted his head forward. In a span of a millisecond, I felt a jolt of shock travel up my spine to break me from whatever effect he had on me. I was only in time to turn away when his lips grazed my cheek, giving me the shadow of the flames I would've tasted had he not missed his target.

He drew back with an intake of breath. "Ryan." He whispered, almost pleadingly. It was hard to ignore the doe-eyed gaze he was giving me. Detachedly, I wondered how many times he had used it to his advantage and I was even more determined not to give in.

Fighting back shivers, I did my best to remain indifferent to his advances. "I think you should go." I said quietly.

Something flashed in his wide, questioning, brown eyes before he pressed his lips into a thin line and swiveled on his heel. I didn't dare to move until I heard him close front door before his car pulled out of the driveway. Only then was I aware of how I dodged the bullet yet the regret of not getting hit was eating me up inside.

Later that night as I stared sleeplessly up the ceiling, I reflected back on the past few hours with Brendon. I thought about how he had cried, how peaceful he looked when he was sleeping, how dark his eyes were with desire as he kissed me and the expression on his face before he left. Trying to decipher them all, what his motives were for each action, drove me mad and until the clock displayed  _00:37_  in red was my pillowcase damp from tears.

*

"Another one in the hoop! You owe me a double cheeseburger, Ryan!" Jon pumped his fist in the air triumphantly, nudging me with his elbow.

I broke into an amused grin, shaking my head as I looked back at his scores for the basketball arcade game we played. He had beaten me by two points, which was impressive, considering that I was usually the best at this game when I played with the others. "I've never actually seen anyone get this excited over cheeseburgers." I admitted with a laugh.

Jon smirked at me, looking at my hand. "Speak for yourself. You were shoveling crackers and cheez-whiz the whole time at the movies earlier." He said.

I shrugged as we ambled towards the air-hockey machine where Ray and Pete were busy playing against each other. Ray kept making surprised noises as he lunged to hit the puck while Pete complained that his eyeliner would be smudged at the end of the game from the way he was sweating - both he and Ray were very competitive. Christa, Ray's girlfriend was taking a video of the two boys. She shot a grin at me, to which I returned.

A little away from them at the racing game area, Tyler and Josh were playing against each other at the Mario Kart machine; like Ray and Pete, the couple were also very determined not to lose to each other and Tyler kept swearing every once in awhile when Josh overtook his position. Everyone seemed to be having a good time except -

"Have you seen Patrick?" Jon frowned as he peered around the noisy arcade, squinting at the flashing lights in attempts to find the strawberry blond. "He was with us earlier, wasn't he?"

"I honestly have no idea." I was starting to feel slightly worried. Ever since Pete suggested that I bring my best friends along, Patrick looked like he was having an inner struggle when we met with the dark-haired boy at the movies. I suspected that he must've broken away from the group when we came to this arcade.

"I hope Pete didn't do anything to him." Jon murmures, which meant he had noticed the same thing as I did. "Patrick has a good heart and I'd hate it to be Pete who, like, does the damage to him because I'm starting to like that emo kid." He added, looking at me.

"Patrick's ... I dunno. He used to have a crush on Pete so I guess it's kinda awkward to be around him, especially when Patrick's dating Joe."

"Joe? You mean that guy who can make better facial expressions than online memes?" He asked with faint astonishment and when I nodded, he let out a whistle. "I'd date Trohman too."

My eyebrows arched but I tried to keep my face neutral, which was kinda hard. You see, over the course of the week when Jon arrived at school as a transfer he was starting to grow on me and as I did enjoy being around him, I guess I kinda got a little excited hearing that. However, I didn't want to get my hopes up so I waited for that dreaded "no homo" comment.

I didn't hear it from him.

Instead, Jon spotted Patrick playing Whack-A-Mole all by himself. His eyes softened sympathetically. "I think you should talk to him." He said, turning to me.

"Why me? You're a much better talker than I am." I said. "Not that I don't want to talk to Patrick, it's just ... I have a lot on my plate already." I added, thinking of Brendon when he had dinner at my place. I suppressed a shudder when I remembered that I could nearly have burnt down the house if I had sex with him.

Jon was giving me that look, the slight narrowing of his eyes and the shallow crease on his forehead.

"Okay, fine." I sighed, rolling my eyes before reaching for my wallet and pulling out a twenty dollar-bill. I handed it to him. "Knock yourself out with the cheeseburgers."

"Oh no --" He was starting to protest, shaking his head.

"I lost the bet, remember?" I reminded him in a mildly exasperated tone. "Just take it." I insisted, placing the crisp bill into his palm.

"You can't be serious." He said after looking at it for a moment before returning it to me. Letting out a nervous chuckle, he shifted on his feet. "I was actually wondering if you'd like to hang out with me, like one-on-one, sometime but I didn't know how to say it to you. The bet seemed like a good idea at that time, though" He mumbled, meeting my eyes with a sheepish grin as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

I goggled at him, too surprised to say anything. He had been asking me out and I didn't notice? I mean, Jon was a nice guy whom I found cool and he had a great sense of humor which was a plus because he got along with everybody but frankly I didn't think he noticed me in  _that_  way, much less would develop the interest in me. Blood rushed into my cheeks as I struggled to say something - anything, really.

But I was too late to come up with a response because Jon's smile faltered and he mumbled, "S'alright if you don't --"

"Sure!" The word-block finally worn off and for some strange reason, my voice was a little higher in pitch. I cleared my throat. "Like, yea, I'd totally go on a date with you - _hang out_  with you - I meant to say 'hang out.' Oh god." I groaned in embarrassment, covering my face with my hands.

Jon was laughing at me but he was saying, "It's okay, Ryan. I understand what you're trying to say. So, next Friday night? We can both have a double cheeseburger at McDonald's. Or, anywhere that has a good burger - hey, how do you feel about having nachos? There's this place I went to with my cousin Chrissy ..." He began to babble on in that tangent. It was adorable the way his face lit up when he brought in topics about random types of food.

He could be talking to me about how amazing croissants tasted when dipped in hot chocolate for about ten more minutes and I wouldn't have minded but my attention on him faltered. I was glancing away from Jon for a moment only to find Pete and Patrick speaking to each other in a serious manner.

Pete was frowning as he spoke but Patrick was saying something uncomfortably while shaking his head. Then the two stopped before the younger boy walked away with an upset look. Jon whispered something about him going after Patrick to make sure he was alright. Biting my lip, I took a step forward to Pete, who was staring off into space with a confused expression.

"Hey, are you --" I broke off when he sighed, sounding disappointed in himself. My stomach tightened with worry and I placed my hand on his shoulder. "How did it go with my buddy, Patrick?"

He shook his head and regarded me thoughtfully as though he were debating inwardly whether he should speak his mind. Then his shoulders slumped a bit. "Does Patrick ... not like me?"

I was prepared to answer but then recalling how happy Patrick looked with Joe made me catch myself from talking. "Like you as in?" I treaded the topic carefully, not wanting to reveal that my friend did have a huge crush on Pete before.

The dark-haired boy fiddled with the bracelets on his wrist, one of which had the square-shaped beads spelling E-M-O. "I was wondering if he just doesn't like me in general." He began to maunder, making less and less sense. "I mean, he's such a nice guy and I know I can look and act like a douche but I don't know what I did to him because suddenly --"

"Can you start from the beginning?" I held up my hands in a time-out gesture. "I have no idea what's happening."

He flushed, mumbling an apology. He then proceeded to tell me a story about how Mikey Way had broken up with his longtime girlfriend Alicia, who had been cheating and using him to climb the social ladder, about a month ago. Pete had apparently tried to cheer his best friend up but at the same time he was hoping his friend would like him back. But then Mikey had met this girl Kristin and they had started dating so even though Pete was happy for them, he was also a little hurt.

"So it was a Tuesday when I was alone during soccer practice, I think Patrick was watching the team when he came over and asked me wrong." Pete was saying. "Like he was so nice and asked me what's wrong and I just couldn't help but tell him how I was feeling at that time. We talked for awhile and he said something about falling for someone who could never love him back and I guess we clicked on that level because we relate to it."

I tried to keep my face straight but I was feeling bad for Pete because I knew Patrick had been telling the unsuspecting boy about his feelings for him. So Pete couldn't possibly have known that Patrick used to have a crush on him. "Oh." I responded.

"I didn't know he had a boyfriend." Pete said regretfully, glancing past the space in between two rows of game machines at Jon and Patrick. "I should've nosed around before telling him that I liked him in  _that_  way. Now he won't talk to me and it's all my fault." My chest squeezed painfully at his self-accusation.

But how could I tell him the truth without sealing the possibility that I might be worsening the situation between him and Patrick. Shaking my head, I patted his arm. "I'm sure he doesn't hate you - he's not one to hate people over tiny things. I'm sure he's just unsure of how to act around you."

"You think?"

"Yea. Maybe you should lay it off for a bit. I know it'll be hard but trust me, you'll both be able to sort your feelings properly." I wanted to add more but Pete seemed to understand and like he needed some space so he mumbled his thanks and walked away. I stared after him for a few moments and turned around to find Jon.

But he was nowhere to be seen. With a small frown, I wandered around the arcade, peering around at the crowd in the place. There were a few of shady people occupying the pinball machines, a couple trying out at the 'claw' game, a group of kids gathering around the capsule station and others. But somehow I couldn't find my friends.

I was walking over to inspect the coindozers out of sheer boredom when a loud laugh snapped my attention. Glancing up, I frowned when I saw Brendon just a few feet away. I hadn't even realized he was playing the 'claw' game. Worst still, his girlfriend Willow was all over him, her arms slung around him like vines as she laughed over something.

Didn't he just break up with her?

On a closer inspection, I suspected that the can she was holding probably contained alcohol because even though she was clinging on Brendon, her body swayed a little like she was drunk. I watched as he told her that he did his best and tried to convince her to try out the other games when he glanced over in my direction and froze.

And I was staring at him too, unsure of whether I should turn away and leave. But before I could make up my mind, Willow let out a squeal before she barreled over to the coindozer, nearly flattening me.

"Brendon, let's play this instead!" She pleaded in her annoying, high-pitched whine when she noticed her boyfriend had left to exchange the tickets at the gift counter nearby. I felt sorry for Brendon though and wondered what it was that his father had seen in Willow that made him like her; I shuddered.

Willow rounded on me with a huge frown on her features and unfortunately, she caught the face I was making at her. "What are you doing here, fag? Go away." She snapped.

The f-word hit me really hard where it hurt. Anger blossomed in my chest as I glowered at the insolent girl. "What did you just call me?" I asked in a very calm tone, belying how much I wanted to blow up on her for using that as insult.

"A fag." She repeated with a sick laugh. "That's what you are,  _aren_ _'t you_? You look so fucking gay. What boy wears eyeliner and has stupid hair like that?" She sneered at me, poking my chest with her sharp fingernail. "Something's wrong with your head, pretty boy."

Even though I was hurt by her futile excuse of a jab at my appearance - which I liked very much - my expression remained indifferent. "Thanks." I said sarcastically, quietly smoldering like a volcano. "But it's Ryan, by the way, not pretty boy."

"Ryan?" Willow repeated so loudly, that it cut through the sounds of the machines around us. Her face reddened as it twisted with anger. "Oh, so you're the cocksucker who tried to steal  _my_  Brenny-bear, right?" She demanded.

Detachedly I was disgusted by the nickname but seeing how worked up she was set off a twisted sort of satisfaction from knowing that I had this hold over her. With a sneer, I said, "Does it bother you that  _I_  make your boyfriend feel better than  _you_  ever can?Do I make you doubt that you can give what Brendon always wanted?"

" _Shut up!_ " Her voice rose thinly. "You're a monster! A bloody freak."

But I couldn't stop because I was feeding off her violent reactions. "Are you afraid that I'd turn Brendon into a - what was it you called me - a fag? A boy who likes boys? What's wrong with that? Don't like the thought of Brendon sucking me off?"

It was gratifying to watch the way blood rushed away from her face as she goggled at me disbelief. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish but in her eyes, I saw the fear she had towards me before her pretty features screwed up into an ugly expression. I was aware past the ringing in my ears that she was snarling derogatory words at me and that Brendon, having heard her thin and angry voice, was quickly coming over.

My heart was pounding wildly that I could hear it all the way to my ears. I wasn't sure what I had said to her exactly when I wasn't thinking past how much I wanted to make her pay for insulting my sexuality but I was rewarded with a very hard punch in the face.


	26. 24

My jaw fucking hurt.

As I winced at the pressure of my own hand from rubbing the side of my face, my mind replayed over the events that happened earlier. I remembered saying something really bad and she basically punched me. She could've beaten me into a pulp with the alcohol in her bloodstream fueling her rage, had it not been for Brendon who had to yank her into his arms so that she wouldn't murder me on the spot. She had screeched through her teeth when he did that and she must've hurt Brendon in her struggle to escape.

I didn't want to cause a much bigger scene by being kicked out by one of the arcade employees so I left. I had retreated to the back of the arcade, sitting on the curb alone in the night under the light of a streetlamp where I was sure nobody would bother me until I managed to prevent myself from vandalizing public property. I was still seething from her words, still feeling the hot and venomous anger pulsating in my bloodstream.

If the universe hadn't gotten the message that I wanted to be alone, it really needed fixing.

Hearing the soft footsteps from behind me, my body went as taut as a wire. I glanced over my shoulder, giving whoever it was a glare that they'd better leave me the fuck alone. Honestly, was it  _that much_  to want to be left alone?

Brendon stopped short in his tracks, raising his palms placatingly before he took a tentative step forward. Before I could open my mouth, to yell or curse at him, he said quickly, "I was wondering if you were okay."

"But you really need to listen to because I'm telling you the truth: trust me, I'm okay." I snapped and turned back around to seethe.

He was silent. With a sigh, he sat down beside me on the curb, leaving a respectable amount of space between the both of us. He didn't say anything for the longest time. I was certain I had forgotten what it was like having him near me when I was angry about something until I calmed down; by sitting here with me, he gave me the chance to remember what that felt like.

I wanted to rant and take my anger out on him but instead, I drew a breath and said in what I hoped was a passably calm tone. "I thought you broke up with her."

Instead of confirming my suspicions, he tried to steer clear of the topic, which was a big mistake. "You shouldn't have goaded her like that, Ryan." He chided although the disapproval every syllable enunciated didn't sound entirely genuine.

I scoffed derisively, staring at him with utter incredulity. "Me?" I jabbed a finger at myself, voice rising with every word. "Goaded her like  _that_?" She's the one who called me a fag and a cocksucker by way of insult. Not to mention that she said people like me were sick in the head and deserved to die. What on earth were you thinking dating a homophobic girl -  _emphasis_  in homophobic because she has  _loads_  - when you're not even straight? And you  _do_  know alcohol makes all the hate she's carrying worse, right? " I demanded as the sound of my voice carried through the empty streets.

"Ryan--"

"No, I'm not finished! Why are you letting her walk all over you? You're not a throw-rug." I stared at his features, desperately trying to read what he was feeling right now. When he didn't answer I faltered. "Beebo?" I began worriedly.

Brendon's lips were pursed into a thin white line. "I'm sorry Willow punched you." He said quietly, meeting my eyes.

"Why are you apologizing for her?" I asked with disbelief. "She was the one who gave me this, not you." I said, pointing at the sore, throbbing part of my face.

"Because if it wasn't for me, she wouldn't have hurt you." He replied in the same subdued tone. "If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't be drunk at this time. If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't have gotten back to me. If it wasn't for me, I wouldn't have gotten  _us_  into this big mess of a dead friendship. Just pin all the blame on me, why don't you. As long as it makes you feel better about yourself, what do my feelings matter anyway." Even though he wasn't talking loud, his words left my ears ringing.

Swallowing past the aching lump of guilt for taking my anger out on him, I tried to say something. "Brendon --"

"Look, I came here to check on you because I care, okay?" He cut me off resolutely. "I'm not that heartless monster you think I am or whatever. Now get your ass off that goddamned curb and follow me. I'm getting you something for your face." Without waiting for my reply, he stood up and began to walk.

Surprised, I stared after him for a few painful heartbeats when he snapped over his shoulder. "Are you coming or not?"

I scrambled to my feet and hurried after him, making sure to fall in step with him from behind. From the stiff set of his shoulders, I could tell he was either pissed off or upset; probably both and I could guess those were gravitating towards me basically being a jerk. Biting back the guilt that was squeezing my chest, I picked up my pace as I was already slowing down. We arrived at a convenience store just two streets down and Brendon made me wait outside before he disappeared inside the shop without another word.

I was trying not to feel like I've been kicked as I stared idly at a fire hydrant until he came back. I had only looked up at him, opening my mouth to ask him what was going on when his hand was on one side of my face and pushed something on the other side, which was where Willow had punched me. I let out a shocked gasp, flinching in his grip before I realized he had was putting soda can. The heat from his palm and the coolness of the drink contrasted each other on my skin and I wasn't sure which I found more inviting.

" _Oh_." The sound tumbled out of my mouth as the relief from the throbbing on my cheek ebbed. "Thank you."

Brendon mumbled something in reply and allowed me to hold the can before he drew back, regarding me with that serious expression that made me feel awfully conscious of the way I was looking; I was sure my eyeliner was smudged and I looked bruised up. Fighting the pinch of embarrassment, I stared back at him.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked stiffly. He was still pissed.

"Um, a bit better." I replied quietly, averting my gaze away from his which was starting to make me even more uncomfortable.

He exhaled audibly through his nose and shook his head. "I hope you've invested in concealer because Willow's punch leaves an nasty bruise unless you want weird looks and Danielle to ask about it."

Heat rushed into my cheeks. "Oh man, Mom will be so worried." I said worriedly, knowing that I'd have to suffer a barrage of questions and a long lecture back home if my mother saw this on my face. "Does your girlfriend take karate classes or something?"

"Obviously for self-defense but I guess her good churchgoing parents didn't think she'd be abusing her knowledge of hand-to-hand or that she'd be doing underage drinking but hey, what they don't know won't hurt them."

"I didn't physically provoke her, for the record." I mumbled indignantly because his tone sounded accusatory.

"Doesn't matter. She wanted to start the fight so she threw the first punch." He remarked curtly.

I took a moment to stare at him in attempts to decipher. "Are you mad at me?"

"Not in the same way you've been at me for the past six years, if you were wondering. I'd say it's in the 'what the fuck were you thinking?' kind of way although I think I'm starting to wonder why I'm even bothering to get myself this worked up over you."

I was struck speechless.

"Also, hanging out with Willow takes a toll on my usual tolerance for things. Which is  _exactly_  why I'd choose fucking her over having a regular date with her. It distracts the both of us better; takes her mind off how her parents tick her off and mine off Dad's expectations."

Sensing that it was best if kept my mouth shut, I kept my thoughts to myself and minded my own business instead. The night was peaceful and, being the opposite tension hanging between us, the cool breeze was calming. I was planning to readjust my can but since Brendon wasn't talking to me yet - still inclined to glare off stonily - and I was bored, I read the label off the can and frowned when I recognized the brand name.

"Why did you get me this?" I asked, momentarily forgetting that he was probably in a foul mood and didn't want to talk to me. My heart was in my throat.

He lifted his face and looked at me. "Don't tell me you've grown out of fizzy lemonade. You used to love it when I got you one of these after soccer practice back when we were younger." He stated.

The lump in my throat began to hurt again as I bit my lip, gripping the can tightly. Suddenly, I felt like I couldn't breathe. The backs of my eyes began to hurt and I blinked away to prevent myself from losing composure. Lately I was starting to have difficulty understanding the situation between Brendon and I. The lines were blurring and I kept finding myself in the space between confusion and conflict for my feelings towards him.

The worst part was I wasn't sure how I actually felt about him, in general.

Brendon, having noticed how pale I had become, regarded me in alarm. "Ryan, are you alright?"

I backed a step away from him, shaking my head. "I'm fine. Please stop staring at me like that. You're making me nervous." I added, meeting those wide brown eyes.

He flushed and averted his gaze ruefully.

We would have went on acknowledging the silence instead of speaking our minds until one of us extricated ourselves from this awkward situation if Jon hadn't hurried the process along by approaching us.

"There you are! I was looking all -- What happened to your face?" My friend demanded worriedly before frowning at Brendon suspiciously.

"I didn't do anything." Brendon answered Jon's unasked question. "I only bought Ryan a drink, that's all." He said in a petulantly indignant tone.

Jon didn't appear entirely convinced but left the topic alone. "You're Brandon, right?"

The white line that was Brendon's mouth tightened even more but he made no attempts to correct Jon, instead he grunted like he couldn't be bothered what he was called at this point.

"Cool." Jon mumbled, looking at him warily out of the corner of his eye before turning to me. "Everyone else is waiting for you. We were calling your phone but you didn't pick up."

"Battery must've died." I said. "I'm tired. Let's just go home." I faced Brendon one last time for that night and told Jon to give me a moment. With one last puzzled but wary glance, Jon left. Now that it was just Brendon and I again, my resolve to speak seemed to waver when the brunet in front of me met my gaze with his. "Thanks for the lemonade, by the way."

"Yea. Yea, it's cool." He responded in an indifferent tone.

Fighting back the involuntary throb in my chest, I nodded and shifted on my feet when my mind blanked all of a sudden. I moved forward instinctively and planted a kiss on his cheek. He didn't move, not even when I drew back. Uncertain if this was a good or bad thing, I said a quick goodbye and hurried off.

As I made my way back to my car, finding Patrick, Ray and Christa and Jon, all I could think of was why I had even allowed my impulses to guide me earlier and why it had stung when Brendon didn't kiss me back.

 


	27. 25

"Ryan, I think we've gotten the mix wrong." Jon frowned at the boiling tube that contained furiously bubbling liquid. The acrid smell of the chemical was stabbing my nose every time I glanced up to observe. As the teacher, Mr Powell, thought Josh and I talked too much, he swapped me with Jon's partner, Jenna Black, thinking that putting me with him would keep my tendency to talk a bit too loudly at bay.

It didn't work and Mr Powell could see as much as he kept casting disapproving glares at our direction; Jon argued that he was most likely judging Vic Fuentes and Jenna McDougall behind us but I knew better. At any rate, our experiment was going badly. You see, Josh was my only hope at getting decent scores in Chemistry and now that he wasn't partnered up with me, things were rolling downhill with my incompetence. Jon wasn't much help too, in case you were wondering.

"Why did you even take this subject anyway?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "It was either this or Art and I suck really horribly at doing creative stuff. Don't even ask what happened the last time I tried Origami." He said, adding a glare for good measure when I gave him a disbelieving look before he twirled his pen with his finger.

I hadn't forgotten that Jon had asked me out to have cheeseburgers the other day but we hadn't discussed when and where. Not that I didn't bother about it, in fact it was  _quite_  the opposite; a few times I had turned to face him, prepared to make sure if he was still up for it before I'd lose my nerve and pretend I was checking the whiteboard.

When Chemistry lab period ended, both Jon and I left to go to the boy's gym lockers. I had come to dread the room as this was where I'd be seeing Brendon passing by my row every time he wanted to borrow something from Dallon's locker, which happened to be two rows down. And his 'visits' had became more frequent since Gerard's party so either he really needed some of Dallon's deodorant spray because he was too lazy to buy his own or it was just some clever ploy to see me.

And as I donned my gym clothes, I made sure to face the wall so I didn't have to look at him. Things had become awkward between us and I felt like if he did catch me in the eye while I was changing, it would be adding to the tension between us.

"Ryan, are you alright? You look like you've eaten something really sour." Jon observed with an amused sort of frown upon seeing my expression after I heard Brendon's footsteps.

"He does that all the time." Ray waved his hand dismissively as he tied up his curls into a man bun. "Nothing to worry about."

"Hey, I just got word from Tyler that we'll be playing volleyball today." Josh said, tugging his shirt over his body as he approached us. Noticing my frown of apprehension, he added, "Hopefully Mr Patterson will let you off easy." He glanced downwards but I knew he was looking at my surgical scars on my left leg.

Jon, unlike my friends who knew my condition, looked nonplussed. "Huh? Why's that?" He asked.

"Bad accident. His leg will hurt if he strains himself." Patrick answered before I could open my mouth to reply. Lately, I've noticed that he rarely talked about Joe anymore and that every time Pete would come up and talk to me while he was around, his expression would close like a door. The strawberry blond regarded me now with some sort of brotherly concern. "You sure you can do it today?"

Experimentally, I did a squat before straightening up and jiggled my left leg. "Probably. We'll see." I shrugged and left for the multipurpose hall. Mr Patterson had asked a couple of other students to help him set up the court, unsurprisingly both Brendon and Dallon were included in the group, alongside Kellin Quinn and Andy Biersack. No matter how many times I've seen them fool around, it was always hard to ignore the pinching feeling in my chest at the sight of both of them.

Brendon and Dallon were engaged in a playful argument and Andy was telling them off for messing around so the two went to one side of the court to help tie the net, only to have Dallon make some sort of inside joke when Brendon burst out laughing. On the opposite side, Andy shook his head at them, plucked a volleyball and took aim. I had heard that he happened to be good at throwing but I didn't expect him to actually hit Dallon's arm from all the way across.

Dallon started as Andy shouted at them to stop slacking off. With an indignant glare, he and Brendon set back to work.

"Yikes, that guy is scary." Jon observed.

"Who?" Ray asked.

Jon pointed at the tall boy who was working with Kellin. "Andy Ballsack --"

I snorted aloud then bit my lip hard to suppress my laughter, shaking my head. " _Biersack_." I corrected when Andy glared in our direction, apparently hearing what my friend said. "And yea. He is scary, sometimes."

"Because he doesn't seem to smile a lot and his blue eyes seem to pierce into your soul." Patrick said. "Trust me, he's a softie once you get to know him. I met him at an animal shelter last summer and he got really emotional over abandoned puppies." He added when Jon regarded him skeptically.

"Well, he can't be  _too_  intimidating if he loves dogs." Jon said decidedly with a shrug and didn't comment further.

Mr Patterson blew the whistle to tell us to line up for the warm-up exercises. After that, the coach selected two boys from our group to play as captains, Joe Trohman and Taylor York. As usual, he told them to choose their team members carefully and reminded them that he will be swapping some of the kids from the benches from time to time. "Take your pick. Remember, five guys for each of you." He said and clapped his hands loudly to bring attention back to the court.

I wasn't surprised that the more athletic kids were called out first, although when Pete was selected in Joe's team along with Patrick, I noticed the awkward look on the strawberry blond's face when Joe placed them side by side as he positioned his team on the court. Andy, on the other hand, chosen the tall boys like Ray, Danny Worsnop and Austin Carlile.

Josh hinted that Joe was going for the offense by choosing energetic people like Brendon, Frank and Pete while Andy's selection would be good for defense as their heights were an advantage.

Somewhere a few feet away, Alex Gaskarth was telling Dallon about the price of some obscure video game I hadn't heard off when the blue-eyed jerk stood up and walked towards me. I didn't quite like him and there had been a few times he had been kinda like a dick to me so I did my best to ignore him when he passed by me and stopped to sit on the row in front of mine.

Josh and I talked about about Twenty Two Airplanes for awhile when he was called out to join the game. Giving me a pat on the back, he hopped off the bleachers and switched places with a tired-looking Patrick. I was hoping my friend would come over to join me but he went off to the locker room. Before I could get up and move away from Dallon as his presence was making me rather uncomfortable the taller boy turned around and spoke to me. "Hey."

I stared at him for long enough to be considered rude. "Hi." I replied warily, glancing around for anything that could save me from having an awkward conversation with Dallon.

He nodded his head and pressed his lips together. "So." He said, blue eyes raking up and down at me like he was judging my appearance; normally I would've been nervously insecure if anyone did that to me but when he did it, it made me feel annoyed.

"So, what?" I didn't do my best in fighting the urge to scowl at him.

He cleared his throat. "Has Brendon been bothering you?"

I frowned at him, surprised that he'd ask me such a question. Suspicion weaseled into my mind, preventing me from answering right away. My gaze narrowed at his questioning one. "Is it even that relevant to you that you must ask me about your own best friend?"

His eyebrows arched upwards in the slightest. "Well, if it's Brendon, of course it will be of some interest to me. I'm his best friend." He replied defensively, staring back at me with a set in his jaw.

"I was his best friend too." I sneered, noticing him stiffen slightly. "But I don't remember ever being so concerned if the people he talked to was bothered by him." Something with Dallon's behavior didn't add up to me in the way I thought I should be taking. Of course he had a right to know but I was fairly certain best friends wouldn't go this far unless ...

"You don't seem to like him much."

"Was it stated somewhere that I'd have to like him if he talked to me?" I snorted incredulously. Who was he to judge how I felt about Brendon? Sure I had mixed feelings towards him but that didn't give Dallon the right to nose his way in.

Dallon's lambent gaze flared warningly when he stood up and leaned over to me; I didn't move away, even when his face was inches away from mine. All I could feel was the mutual dislike radiating in the air between us.

"I don't like it when my friends get hurt by selfish jerks." He said in a very low tone, emphasizing the fact that he was about to threaten me. I was tempted to laugh in his face at his futile attempt; no one could bully me into being nice with anybody. But I stayed firmly in place, returning his sharp glare. "I've got my eyes on you." He added and straightened up before stalking off.

I stared after him, knowing that there was a poisonous thorn embedded within me because of him. Scoffing, I shook my head and returned my attention back to the game when Mr Patterson blew his whistled and called me over to swap places with Joe. When I reached the bottom of the bleachers, my sneakers made noisy squeaks when they came in contact with the newly polished floor. Even if Dallon's threat didn't mean a lot to me, I tried to avoid looking at Brendon directly even when he passed me the ball to serve.

In the process, our fingers had brushed and my resolve to not give him eye contact broke. There was a look on his face, a questioning expression of that held apprehension. Nobody else besides my mother and my friends knew about the condition of my bad leg, besides Brendon. And now, I could tell from the way he was biting the insides of his mouth and the hesitant way he regarded me when I bounced the ball experimentally that he was worried for me.

Suddenly, his attention on me didn't make me feel any more comfortable with the idea of playing a high-intenstity sport that could potentially hurt my leg. My eyes caught Dallon staring purposely at the both of us on the sidelines of the other side of the court beside Mr Patterson. His gaze seemed to drill right past me; while I wasn't afraid of him, I wasn't eager to find out what would happen to me if I got on the worse side.

There were better things to get into trouble anyway. Ignoring the sour expression on the blue-eyed boy's face, I threw the ball upwards into the air.


	28. 26

I was really increasing the risk of hurting my leg today as soon as the volleyball game started.

Once I got the ball sent to the other side of the court, I could feel my focus sharpening immediately when Andy hit the ball back to our team. Dallon's words grated on me in the most infuriating way so I was just taking my feelings up by repeated spiking the ball whenever I got the chance. Every now and then, I kept catching worried glances from some of my friends but the ones I did my best to ignore was Brendon's.

The fact that Dallon was being so clingy with Brendon brought my blood to boil and I simply hated it when the stupid giraffe-human mutant called me selfish. How was I selfish? Dallon's  _that_  person, not me! Thinking about it made me riled up that I didn't notice Frank lunging for the ball the same time I did. His body crashed into mine and for someone like him, the amount of force he used knocked me over.

I only had a moment to curse when my bum hit the floor, sending a sharp jolt from the impact to shoot up my spine. A small, muffled yelp escaped me as the pain registered when strong hands pulled me up to feet.

"Ow, easy there!" I winced, turning to find Brendon shaking his head at me with an expression of disapproval. "What?" I scowled.

"Just be careful." He mumbled, giving my leg a brief look then returned to his position. I checked to see if Frank was okay, and he seemed to be as he rubbed his arm and swung it to make sure it was alright. Catching my eye, he gave me a tight-lipped but apologetic smile before his attention was ensnared by the shrill noise of the whistle.

Mr Patterson was calling out yet another name, replacing Ronnie with Dallon. My eyebrows furrow in annoyance as the tall boy strode over, giving Radke a high five before taking his position. Our gazes met and then we were practically glaring at each other from opposite sides of the court until Mr Patterson blew the whistle once again.

With an obscure hunger to prove some point to Dallon, my body exploded into action, taking mad dives and leaps just to keep the ball from hitting the floor on my team's side. Even the rest of the team picked up on what I was doing, giving their best to confuse the opposing team. Even some of the more athletic people, Dallon included, was having a hard time deflecting.

The part that gave me the hot rush of satisfaction was when I jumped and spiked the ball, hard, over the net and caused it to ram into Dallon's chest. The impact of sent him stumbling and the highlight was the shocked look on his face.

I wasn't aware that I had laughed a spiteful sound but Josh was giving me a funny stare while Ray, on the other side of the court, frowned at me. I tried to force my grin away but Brendon caught me and immediately the same disapproving expression from earlier formed on his features again.

"Why do you keep looking at me like  _that_?" I demanded indignantly when he tutted and shook his head at me. He didn't answer me, which left me fuming at why he refused to reply until I was swapped out for Kellin. As there were about ten minutes till Gym period was over, I did my cool-down routine before heading for the locker room. I found Patrick and Joe in deep discussion by the door that led to the shower area.

I couldn't give them much attention, even if I wanted to, as I desperately needed to get out of my sweat-soaked clothing and get myself clean. Peeling off my clothes, I stepped into the stall and closed the door behind me before turning on the faucet. It was relief to finally be able to wash the sweat off my body and not feel so sticky and disgusting.

Once I was done, I turned the shower off and dried myself before unlocking the stall door. Only to find Brendon glaring at me on the other side. I started in surprise, and it'd be a lie if I didn't admit that I wanted to close the door in his face and then go back to showering but then that would be very selfish to hog the stall as people were already queuing up to have their turn.

Averting my gaze from his, I stepped out just as he put his hand on my arm, preventing me from leaving. I regarded him with a questioning and impatient look

"What's gotten into you?" He said, crossing his arms. "First you prance around defending every volley, knowing your leg condition, and then you hurt Dallon who's probably gonna kick your ass for that." He expressed in agitation, scowling at me.

I deserved the leg part because I was feeling the old awkward twinges in my knee but the Dallon part? No way. Shaking my head, I shrugged his hand off and sneered, "Do I look like I care?"

His expression darkened as his lips folded on each other. "Aren't you worried you're going to get yourself hurt?" He demanded in a less angrier tone.

"Um, hello! Are you two going to fuck in the stall or what because people want to shower too." Gerard called out a few feet away from us, appearing rather exasperated that we were blocking him.

Mumbling our apologies, Brendon and I moved aside. "No, seriously, Ryan." He continued. "What were you trying to achieve?"

"Just  _stop_  bothering me, okay?" I snapped loudly and a few heads turned to stare at me. "What does it matter if I jump up and down and hurt myself? You're not my best friend anymore so stop worrying and tend to that girraffe-human mutant friend of yours!" I exclaimed, blood roaring in my ears.

His brown eyes were wide with shock and hurt. If anything, it was as though I had slapped him.

But he was getting on my nerves and it didn't help matters that my mind was constantly bombarded with what Dallon had said to me. Inhaling deeply, I backed away from him and shook my head once more when realization sank in that I had practically yelled at him. I turned and left him.

I was back at my gym locker, tugging on my skinny jeans not too kindly and Jon had appeared right when I was muttering curses under my breath while zipping on my fly. He gave me a concerned look, to which I ignored, and went to retrieve his deodorant from his locker before speaking. "Are you --"

"Please don't ask." I muttered a warning, pushing away the wet strands of hair that fell in my face after I had pulled on my t-shirt. Taking my eyeliner, I bent down a little so I was eye-level with the mirror and began to apply makeup.

He paused and turned to me once more. "Do you think I could pull it off?" When I frowned at him questioningly, he amended, "The eyeliner. I've always found it cool, but I've never worn it before so ..."

"You can pull anything off." I responded.

"What?" He said, eyes crinkling endearingly at the sides. "Don't you think I'll look weird??"

"Haha." I made a face at him before smudging my eyeliner a bit and straightened up. Even if his joke was a bit offhand, I didn't mind it all because, come on, it was Jon. He's a nice guy. I beckoned him to sit beside me on the bench.

His eyebrows arched with faint surprise but he obliged. Wielding my eyeliner pen, I said, "You want to try wearing it for a day?"

His cheeks tinted red for a moment. "I mean, I'm just curious but sure." He leaned closer and I caught the scent of him. He smelled of citrus soap. Clearing my throat, I placed a hand on his face and tilted it a little before I began to draw the eyeliner on.

"Please don't poke my eye." He added but his tone was lighthearted.

I grinned, glancing away from my work to his face. His smile made my stomach flutter with warmth. "I won't." I promised and continued until I was finished. Leaning back, I admired my work when he stood up and checked his reflection in the mirror. A look of disbelief colored his features as he regarded himself.

Anxiety hummed in me as I wondered if he liked it or not but when he looked me, the huge smile on his face told me he did. My lips began to curl upwards at the sides. "What do you think?" I asked.

"I feel so cool now." He admitted in childishly excited voice, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He clapped his hands as Patrick came over, fresh from the shower. "Look, Patrick! Ryan did my eyeliner. Isn't it lit?" Jon asked, laughing.

His happiness was contagious so it was no wonder when the strawberry blond grinned at him. "It is." Patrick agreed, giving me a glance. "Oh my gosh, you know what idea this gives me?"

"What?" Both Jon and I asked in unison.

"Ryan, you could totally do our makeup for the Halloween Dance." Patrick said and I was reminded of the fact that it was about two weeks away. I began to flush, mumbling that I didn't think I was that good when Josh and Ray joined it, apparently having overheard our conversation.

"Guys, I'm not really sure I can." I said with a laugh as they started to put their suggestions.

"I'm going to dress up as a devil so I guess a red suit, light-up horns and eyeliner would be alright." Patrick said.

"I just need eyeshadow for my costume. I'm sure you know how to apply it." Josh chimed in. "Don't deny it, Ryan. I've seen you try some on."

"And I can't do my face-paint without your skills." Ray added, nudging me. Then the rest of my friends began to discuss what they'd wear for the party.

"Maybe you and I should attend the Halloween dance in matching costumes." Jon suggested and I did a double take, astonished. "What? I mean, we could, right? Unless you have another idea for your costume."

"I've never been to a Halloween Dance with someone whose outfit matches mine." I admitted, flushing. To be honest, I've never attended it with a date, or a friend. Nobody had ever suggested it to me and the though of both Jon and I in a similar getup made me feel a little rush of excitement.

He winked at me. "Then I guess I'll be having the honor of being the first person, eh?" He grinned.

I smiled back, feeling a warm and giddy feeling to rush in my veins. Once we were dressed and ready for the next class, Jon and I left the gym locker room and it wasn't that hard to ignore Brendon, who was frowning at me a few feet away, anymore.

*

 _Questioning Queensland_  was playing on my headphones as I walked Alfie in the neighborhood park. My dog was sniffing the grass curiously as if he hadn't done so before and kept glancing at me like he wanted permission to piss on the grass. We reached the field where the other dogs were playing and the Alsation looked as if he wanted to join them so badly, he kept tugging on his leash.

With a laugh, I squatted and removed it. "Okay, buddy. Go and play with your friends." I said, rubbing his ear before he shot off to join the others. I stared after him for a few moments before taking a seat at one of the benches where I could keep an eye on him. My bad leg was still aching a bit and I was beginning to regret putting so much strain on it earlier today.

After spending a minute watching Alfie bound across the field after a frisbee energetically, I turned my attention to my phone and began to text Jon. So far, we were just talking about this falafel place he had went to with his family when I glanced up to find Brendon with his back facing me, and a French bulldog a few feet away.

"Okay, Hector. Don't run off now." He told his dog firmly but the bulldog looked more like it would rather play than listen to him. Unleashing his pet, Hector darted off and joined Alfie as Brendon straightened up. Not wanting to have a conversation with him, I shut my eyes and pretended I was taking a nap when footsteps approached me. Then the bench creaked with a new weight settling on it and I couldn't help but feel as if the person beside me was Brendon.

Surreptitiously, I opened my eyes just by tiny slits and saw him right away, texting on his phone. He made some sort of exasperated noise as he tapped the screen away. "Ryan, I know you're not really asleep." I wish I had turned my volume higher so I couldn't have heard his voice.

I kept silent, determined to keep up the charade to avoid talking to him.

"I know that your dog, Alfie is also playing tug-of-war with Hector using a stick. Willow's finally accepted that we're over with our relationship" He continued in efforts to get a response from me, which I didn't give. "And that I've had a amazingly hot blowjob experience with Dallon."

My eyes flew open with disbelief. " _What?_ " I exclaimed, face heating up when Brendon broke into laughter.

"That's not funny!" I punched his arm indignantly and fumed. "It really isn't - Stop laughing!" My voice was reaching higher in pitch from the embarrassment.

"It is!" He stuck his tongue out at me. "Come on, lighten up, will you?"

"How is telling me that Dallon gave you a blowjob helps to lighten anything up?" I demanded, flushing hotly

He smirked. "Oh? So you're jealous?"

I stood up and glared at him. "I'm not." I said but my voice shook unevenly. Clearing my throat, I added, "You don't have to tell me about your sexual experiences either. I'm not interested in what you and Dallon do."

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, instead he resumed staring at me like he was trying to make me admit that I was lying or that he was trying to set my hair on fire with his mind.

"You should probably go bother Dallon instead of me. I bet he'd like that." I continued, acid creeping up my tone. A look of astonishment colored his features. "He's always with you, isn't he? Anyway, you should tell him that he'll always be your  _special_  best friend."

Suddenly, he scowled at me. "What's gotten into you today? First you act like a lunatic on the court, second you're being so salty with me in the showers and then now you're lashing out at me? I just wanted to talk." His wounded tone did nothing to subdue my annoyance.

" _Nothing's_  happened to me." I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I took the leash out of my pocket. "I just don't like the way Dallon threatened me today."

"He what?"

"It doesn't matter." I threw in hastily, my patience already wearing thin. "I don't want to talk about him and that's that. You should give him a pat on his head - or give him a blowjob - and tell him I'm not being the selfish person here." Without saying more, I marched off to the field to find my dog, not bothering to look over my shoulder.


	29. 27

"I can't believe there's a Battle of the Bands event for Halloween and nobody told me about it till registration's over!" Jon exclaimed, sounding wounded as he stabbed his fork into a lettuce leaf with a pout. Somehow the discussion about that particular highlight of the Halloween party never came up until today at lunch so he was seemed miffed that nobody asked him; frankly, we had no idea he played the bass and neither did he talk about it.

"Sorry." Josh mumbled, looking as apologetic as one could while chewing grilled cheese sandwich. He dabbed a tissue on his mouth before continuing, "We had no idea you played anything."

"Well, you could've asked. But then I never mentioned it so, I guess it's kinda my fault." Jon sighed ruefully. "If I had, then maybe you wouldn't have gotten that Wilson kid to play for you."

"To be honest." Patrick began, clearing his throat and glanced over in the direction where the mentioned person was having lunch with a few people I recognized like Joe, Kenny and Bob. "Brent is fairly decent." He admitted with a tiny shrug, although the way he pursed his lips later told me he didn't exactly agree.

Jon looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Without thinking, I raised my hand and patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I'm sure you're good bass player too." I said, and a small thankful smile formed on his lips.

Ray, Josh and Patrick were already a complete band and as I didn't play any instruments unless you counted tapping my palms on the table surface without following a rhythm; at least Jon wasn't the only person who was left out. The rest of my friends began to discuss the various parts they'd be playing for the song they were planning to perform so I suggested Jon and I take a walk to take his mind off the current situation at hand.

Even he was doing his level best not to show it, the slight slouch in his shoulders suggested that he was bummed out.

"Hey." I began softly, trying to catch his eye as we exited the noisy cafeteria. "I'd love to see you play some time."

"Yea?" He glanced up at me.

"Mhm." I nodded as we passed by a group of prefects having a heated debate over the choice of last-minute decorations in the multipurpose hall. Frankly, I hadn't had a look at the venue where the Halloween party would be held but I was certain that there would be the usual jack-o-lanterns, fake cobewebs and toy bats. If the Student Council wanted, we'd probably be having Halloween-themed games.

I was wondering if they'd name the fruit punch Bloody Mary again this year when Jon spoke up. "So listen, about the matching costumes thing."

I raised my eyebrow. "What about it?" I tried to ask casually but my tone belied the slightest trace of excitement.

"I was thinking that we could probably go in something similar as Jake and Ron's costumes during  _Anxiety! At the Club's_  Nothing Rhymes --"

"With Circus tour??" My eyes widened with disbelief. "Jon, that's a great idea! I mean I love that band!" I exclaimed, my voice shooting higher in pitch. "That would be fucking awesome."

He let out a chuckle, giving me an affectionate ruffle on my hair. Never had I thought Jon would be liking the same band as I did and I was about to ask him if he listened to any of the other bands I was about to name when he glanced up, features lighting up. "Oh hey, Brendon!" He greeted and I felt my lungs deflate alarmingly fast.

My head spun towards the direction where he was smiling at and the sensation of my heart flipping painfully under my ribcage was registered when my gaze tangled with both Brendon's and Dallon's. The brunet averted his eyes away from mine to Jon's when he plastered on a smile that had to be fake. He greeted Jon, and Jon being the embarrassingly affable guy gave him a bro-hug; Brendon seemed like he wanted to decline but didn't appear like he was able to with me watching him.

Dallon, on the other hand, regarded me stiffly like a reproachful-looking statue as though he was expecting me to leap on Brendon and drag him off to a corner to fuck. Honestly, the sour expression on his features spoiled how handsome he would look. I glared back at him before turning my attention back to Jon and Brendon.

My unsuspecting friend was striking up a conversation about the Halloween party's Battle of the Band's event with the other boy. "Hey, I was wondering if you needed a bass player." He was saying; I couldn't help but frown at him, thinking that he was trying a tad too hard just for a performance that everyone was likely to forget.

Brendon shook his head and gestured at Dallon, who was still smoldering at me. "Dalpal here's the bassist for our band." He informed.

"Oh?" I said, narrowing my gaze at the blue-eyed boy skeptically. " _How convenient_." I murmured, unintentionally letting bitterness creep into my words.

Dallon smiled at me with triumphantly arrogant expression while Brendon glanced at me, almost guiltily before turning his attention back to Jon. "We were just on our way to meet the rest for practice in the music room but you're totally welcome to join us."

I didn't want to but the way he referred to Jon as you and didn't include my name or anything showed that he was inclined not to acknowledge my presence left me feeling both hurt and angry inside. Jon frowned and glanced at me for a moment before saying, "Okay sure. I think Ryan and I could give us our input." He was blissfully obvious to the tension hovering in the air amongst all of us, which was a good thing.

Brendon opened his mouth, before he thought better of what he wanted to reply and gestured at the both of us to follow him. Jon fell in step with him and successfully struck up yet another conversation with him while I hung back a little.

"You've got some nerve." Dallon said, walking beside me. Maybe it was some form of resentment I didn't dare to admit but I didn't like the fact that he was taller than me because of the way he seemed to glare down at me with contempt in those blue eyes.

"It was Jon who wanted to talk to Brendon, not me." I pointed out.

He shook his head. "Technicalities." He waved off my statement. "You think you can fool Brendon, but you're not fooling me."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I demanded indignantly, stopping to scowl at him. "I'm not fooling anybody! Why do you keep picking on me?"

He simply looked at me like I was crazy.

"It's like you're trying so hard to make me hate you." I continued on my tirade, not at all noticing that Jon and Brendon had already disappeared round the corner of the hallway leaving me to deal with Brendon's clingy and possessive best friend.

Dallon scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You have no fucking idea of the shit you put him through." He sneered. "Think you're miserable coping with the fact that he rejected you? Haven't you thought of how you hurt him --"

"Oh, are you even hearing yourself right?" A harsh, derisive bark escaped me. "He didn't just reject me.  _He_  led me on and threw me away during a time when  _I_  needed him most!" I snapped as blood roared in my ears. "He was the one who didn't value our friendship enough to --" I stopped short when he began to laugh a cruel, mocking sound.

"You can lie to yourself all you want." He said, lip curling into a contemptuous sneer. "You can name all the sins he has done and convince yourself you're the victim of his actions. You can tell yourself that you're the saint while he's the Devil. But guess what, Ryan? You're as much of a sinner as he is because of what you did to him lately but you're just too afraid to  _admit_  that you know what you're doing to him." His words hit me home in the chest where they stabbed my heart like throwing knives.

I sucked in a breath, struck speechless. I stared at him, uncomprehending yet I understood with perfect clarity of what he had said. In an instant, all the memories of everything Brendon and I rushed past my head. The look on his face was a gloating one, revealing that he was satisfied on how dealt the blow. I was vaguely aware of Brendon and Jon reappearing and asking us what was happening.

I took one glance at them, still unable to speak when Jon caught my expression. But it was Brendon who spoke first, going very white in the face. "Ryan ..."

I shook my head, pressing my lips together; even though I couldn't speak from all the hurt that was choking me, I didn't trust myself. Backing away, I turned on my heel and left as quickly as I could.

*

I could hear footsteps from behind but I had lost the energy, or the will to shout at whoever it was to stop following me. I made a sharp turn down one of the corners of the hallway before taking another turn. I didn't stop to see who the person was but from the sound of their shoes on the floor, I had managed to lose them. Sniffing hard, I pushed the boys' restroom door open and went right for the sink.

Turning the tap on, I stared at the running water, mesmerized by the way it flowed when I choked. The back of my hand scrubbed across my cheeks and came away wet; despite my efforts to hold my tears back, they came anyway. My eyes were stinging, not just from the tap water I was splashing my face with in attempts to wash away the tears but also from crying.

How had Dallon managed to read me that way? And what made him think it was acceptable to make those observations of me? Anger surged in my veins, blocking out the noise of surroundings until I could only hear my heart furiously slamming in my chest. My hands balled into fists, desperately wanting to punch something so badly when my chest flared with a sudden ache. My head was spinning so much I wanted to sit down and shut my eyes to pretend that nothing shitty had happened in the past ten minutes.

"Oh, there you are." The voice that spoke sounded relieved. I glanced up at the mirror to see a pale-faced Jon regarding me anxiously. "Why did you run off?" He asked when I turned around.

I shook my head, rubbing my nose. "I've been such a dick, Jon."

A nonplussed expression overcame his features. "No, Ryan, don't say that. You're  _not_  a dick." He protested, placing his hands on my shoulders as he looked me in the eyes.

"You don't even  _know_  me that much." I snapped, almost wanting to shrug him off. "How can you say that?"

A flash of hurt crossed his gaze. "Ryan, nobody's perfect." He began and raised his hand to brush my cheek with his thumb. "Everybody's got their flaws."

"That's not making me feel any better."

Jon sighed. "I know. I just --" He inhaled sharply. "You know what? The words I want to say won't make sense because I'm really bad at talking so I'll just give you this instead." He said and his arms wrapped around me.

I stiffened in shock but that didn't stop him from letting hugging me tightly as if he wanted to squish me into a Ryan-Jon sandwich. Hesitantly, my arms went around him, the security of his embrace opening me up from the inside. I let my eyes flutter shut as I rested my head on top of his hair. He smelled of citrus soap, which I found strangely comforting and soon enough I was starting to feel less horrible of a person.

"Thanks, Jon." I said, my eyes still closed.

"Anytime." He responded, patting my back comfortingly.

 


	30. 28

Needing time for myself, I convinced Jon to join Brendon and Dallon and watch them play instead of following me around while I took a therapeutic walk around the school to clear the rest of my unquiet mind of the thoughts he wasn't able to hug away. He had hesitated, those brown eyes looking conflicted between leaving and staying but after some amount of me convincing him that I'd be alright, he nodded and left.

I was entering the school's greenhouse where the Biology students grew pea plants for their experiment when I saw two girls by one of the rows talking to each other. My pace slowed down and the girl with light brown hair was turning around. A jolt of familiarity passed up me. "Lynn?"

Her eyes widened. "Ryan! Oh my gosh." She broke into a grin, coming right over to me and leaving her friend. "I haven't seen you for awhile."

I did my best not to roll my eyes at her. To be honest, I hadn't really talked to her since I found out that she never told me Patrick was her friend and not Billboard-head like I initially assumed. "It's good to see you too." I replied stiffly when Lynn told her friend to continue tending to the pea plants while she talked to me.

"That's Ashley." She said, pointing at the girl with blue highlights in her hair. "Anyway, how have you been?"

"Didn't Patrick keep you posted?" I responded flatly.

A guilty look overcame her features. "Yea, about that." She rubbed her arm and regarded me contritely. "I'm sorry. I should've said something about it but --"

"You didn't want me to whine to Patrick." I sighed exasperatedly. "Yea, I got the message."

She nodded awkwardly. "It was a dick thing to do but I hope we can still be friends."

"I suppose." I murmured, eyeing the rest of the pea plants as if they were more interesting than the conversation I was having with her.

She twirled a long lock of her hair in her finger thoughtfully. "Are you going to the Halloween Dance?"

A questioning frowned settled on my features when she asked that. I hesitated, thinking that I would probably be asked to go with her as a backup plan or something. "Uh, yea. I'm going with a friend."

She looked surprised. "Oh, I thought you were - Not with Urie, right?"

I stared at her, scandalized that she assumed I'd be going with that guy - didn't Brendon already have Dallon to go to the dance with? I'd bet my right foot his 'special friend' would be dying to have Brendon bring him along as his date. "No." I replied immediately, frowning darkly at her. "Just because I almost hooked up with him doesn't mean I'll be going with him. Especially not with that giraffe-human mutant that's always hovering around him."

"Oh, so you've met Dallon?"

"Duh."

She laughed. "Ah, Weekes is my cousin. I had no idea the guy you were with at Mikey's house party was Brendon; Dallon talks about him a lot." She stated.  
  


"I can see why he's so obsessed with the Forehead." I muttered under my breath.

"What?"

"Is he always a dick?" I said before she could realize what I called Brendon.

She hesitated, considering her next words. "Kind of. But then again, some people can be awfully obsessive when they like someone that much." She admitted lightly.

"He likes  _Brendon_?" Somehow I had seen this coming from a mile away but to have someone actually confirming my suspicions left me with a ripple of astonishment. No wonder Dallon was acting like a dog threatening to bite me if I talked to Brendon. I was fairly certain that that kind of behavior was bordering unhealthiness. Biting my lip pensively, I inhaled. "Wow."

She shrugged. "Apparently Urie's practically blind towards his feelings because he has his eyes on someone else for awhile." Her statement piqued my interest and although I knew that the person could be me, some part of me wanted her to tell me who that  _someone else_  was. But before I could ask, she spoke first.

"But I don't think you should worry too much about it. Like, it's not concerning you, right?" She asked, oblivious to how all that she said was pointing arrows to me.

"No." I heard myself say as if I was listening to my own voice from underwater, the words were clear yet they sounded distorted. "Not at all."

*

Ray paced about the room anxiously, pausing every ten seconds to check his Adventure Time wristwatch and letting out a muffled impatient sound. "He should be here  _any_  minute now." He mumbled under his breath for what felt like the hundredth time this afternoon.

We went to Patrick's place for band practice that Friday afternoon. Actually, Jon and I were invited over because my friends felt a little bad especially when Jon had been upset that he wasn't asked to play with them.

"I wasn't  _that_  bummed out." Jon had muttered under his breath when we entered a room where Patrick called, for obvious reasons, the music room. There was already a drum kit there so Josh didn't need to lug his over and so were two guitars - one for Ray and another for Patrick. My friends had also asked this tall, lanky kid from my Biology class, William Beckett, to play the keyboard.

He had dark hair and this sort of permanently brooding expression on his face so I didn't really try to talk to him - he intimidated me. Jon had taken one look at William and gave an awkward sort of smile before scurrying towards me at the corner of the room. Even his Walker genes, which he claimed came with the friendly guy package, couldn't break through William's stoic exterior.

Meanwhile, Ray was making everybody nervous with all his pacing around until Josh told him to sit his ass down somewhere because he was affecting everybody. "Well, Brent's late!" He snapped at drummer in agitation. He hated it when people were late and with the Halloween party drawing closer, the pressure wasn't being kind with his patience.

"Haven't you gotten used to it?" I asked. "I mean, if he's usually this late to band practices --"

"No!" Ray scowled at me.

"Brent Wilson seems  _very_  reliable." Beside me, Jon muttered as he swung his legs back and forth while seated in his chair, rolling his eyes. "What was the song you guys were playing?" He asked, changing the topic before anyone could make a point of how he was still bummed out that he wasn't playing the bass for the band.

Patrick stopped his vocal warm-ups and replied. "Run Dry by Philip Branch." He was about to add something when William began to play a disturbingly familiar song. The strawberry blond frowned at the keyboardist and suggested lightly, "Let's not play the intro of The Black Parade, okay?"

Ray grew impatient after a minute of his outburst and then ordered everyone to start practicing without Brent. The song they played was groovy and I was humming and clapping along although I was very off-tempo it made Josh ask me to stop. It was weird hearing the track without a bass line until Jon, unable to fight off the temptation, picked up a bass guitar propped on a stand and played along on impromptu.

The song now sounded better than it had been although some chords were wrong. By the time they finished playing, Brent arrived. He was a greasy-haired kid with this sort of shifty way of talking. I found myself feeling highly uncomfortable when he kept looking in my direction with that funny expression.

After they played the song a few times, I was starting to get tired of the tune and the way Brent stared at me so I made an excuse to get out of the room. I was lounging in the living room on the couch when Jon appeared by the door. Over the past few days this week, there seemed to be a change in his behavior towards me that I couldn't place a finger on.

Seeing him gave me a small kick of adrenalin in my veins, making me more aware of the little details of my surroundings.

I offered a small smile. "Hey."

Jon shook his head with a frown of amusement. "Scoot over and make room for me, will ya?" He chuckled, giving my stomach a tiny tingle from hearing the endearing sound, when he lifted my legs which were draped along the couch. I sat up so he could sit beside me before that sense of shyness overtook me. I was very much aware that the both of us were alone at the moment.

We didn't say anything for some time and I was starting to sweat for no particular reason when Jon spoke. "So, what did that Dallon guy want with you the other day?"

My stomach tightened involuntarily at the mention of his name. I sat up stiffly in my seat, biting my lip and averting my gaze from Jon's questioning one. "Nothing important."

"Really?" He pushed on, not noticing how uncomfortable I was talking about the topic. Then he began to talk faster. "He didn't seem sorry after you left looking upset. I figured you two had a disagreement or something because you were --"

" _Jon_." I said firmly, narrowing my eyes in warning at him. "It's not something I want to talk about."

He opened his mouth and closed again, wearing a guilty face. "Oh, well. I'm sorry." He mumbled sheepishly and fell silent.

A minute had passed and I was beginning to feel bad for snapping at him when he seemed concerned for me. I drew a breath, facing him before fiddling with my bracelet nervously. "He was being a dick."

Jon didn't look surprised, instead his brows furrowed in displeasure. "Now why would anyone  _want_  to be a dick to you?" He demanded.

I shrugged, remembering the way those blue eyes of Dallon had regarded me with contempt. A swell of hurt inflated in my chest. "He wanted me to stay away from someone because he thinks I'm hurting them because what I --" I broke off, swallowing hard against the painful lump in my throat. Unbidden, the image of Brendon rose behind my eyes when I turned to look at Jon. I inhaled sharply, abruptly robbed of my ability to speak.

"What's wrong?" Jon's eyes widened with alarm and concern.

I shook my head quickly. "Nothing. I just thought of something. That's all." I lied unconvincingly, returning my gaze back to my clasped hands on my lap. Mental images of Brendon kept appearing behind my eyes, which were accompanied by Dallon's condescending voice echoing in my head. I scrubbed the back of my hand across my face, sniffing. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

I paused. What was I apologizing for? For hanging out with Jon and feeling good about it when I knew how it might hurt Brendon if he knew? For letting Dallon's venomous speech get into my head and spoil a wonderful afternoon? What was I even doing?

I was drawn out of my self-questioning reverie when I felt Jon wrap his arms around me and bury his face in my neck. His warm breath fanned against my skin and his stubble was tickling my collarbone. Despite my current state of mind, I heard myself laugh as I patted his arm. "You just like giving me hugs, don't you?"

I felt him smile before he raised his head to look at me. I could smell the faint scent of sandalwood clinging onto him. Up close, I could make out the individual tiny flecks of lighter color in his brown irises. A smile formed on his features but they weren't the usually playful, amused or friendly ones he'd wear; it was a look of tenderness. "I do." He responded softly, booping the tip of my nose. "Only if I know it'll make you better."

"You are  _such_  a dork." I chuckled affectionately, my gaze was locking on his. I was very much aware of how close our faces were and there was this tiny voice in my head urging me to close the distance. A fluttery sensation of nervous and excitement skittered around in my stomach when his eyes flickered downwards in the slightest.

"I really am." He whispered as he let his fingers brushed my cheek gently. I almost sighed in content from his touch. "Especially around you." He added in a soft whisper, letting a small smirk form before he connected his lips with mine.


	31. 29

Usually Patrick wasn't one who liked unnecessary attention on him but tonight was an exception. Almost every one of my best friends were commenting about his hair. It was the same color as he had dyed last summer - which was blond. He giggled, flushing. "It's just for Halloween. Come on, guys."

"Keep it." I said, glancing away momentarily from Ray's face which I was painting over in white. "It looks really good on you." I added before I turned my attention back on to Ray. He was going as  _Roger Torres_  from Your Catalytic Relationship during the Black Parade era. I was adding the black paint over his eyelids when Jon came over to watch me with an expression of curiosity, eating a banana.

"Are you making his face look like a skull?" He asked.

"That's the idea." Ray replied, leaning back once I was finished. "Okay, gotta let this dry first." He said and went to put on his jacket.

Basically my best friends and I had agreed to come over to my place before the party to get ready. Patrick had already applied eyeliner to match with his red suit but it wasn't really thick so I had to reapply it again for him, much to his halfhearted protests. The rest came over not long after he arrived.

I exhaled, straightening my back from a hunched position. "Next customer." I called out jokingly, tugging my scarf. Josh immediately settled on couch right after Ray had gotten up. "What do you need?"

"Red eyeshadow, please." He responded, glancing past my shoulder at Tyler. "Thanks for helping us all out, by the way." He said as I began to apply the makeup on his skin. I hummed a noise of acknowledgement, putting all my attention on not accidentally poke Josh in the eye or anything. I was about to add the last layer of red so that the color would stand out strikingly when I heard Jon ask me a question.

"Ryan, is that your dad?"

Even if years had passed since his death, the memories lingered at the back of mind; they leapt at once like tigers, flashing in my head. The rain, broken glass and his coffin lowering into the ground.

My hand slipped slightly and I inhaled sharply, straightening up. "What is it?" I asked wearily, turning to Jon in time to catch Ray elbowing admonishingly. "Oh." I said flatly, seeing Jon holding a family photograph in his hands. "Yea. He's ... He's not around, anymore, if you were wondering." I went back to attending to Josh's eyeshadow.

Jon set it back hastily to the shelf where he had fount it with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry." He mumbled quietly.

The awkwardness in the room was thick, that even my other friends appeared rather uncomfortable staying in the living room. Fortunately, my mother had came over to check on us from the kitchen where she had been playing crosswords. "You boys need anything?" She asked, completely oblivious to the tension stifling the mood. A pair of headphones dangled from her neck and she was wearing that frameless pair of spectacles that made her eyes look oddly magnified.

Everyone shook their head but she was already placing a tray that held a plate of sandwiches and glasses of water for each of us on the coffee table. Giving us each friendly smiles, she reminded us that if we needed anything we'd know where to find her before disappearing off. I cut a glance to Jon as I wiped my hands on some wet tissues, noticing the guilty expression on his face as he lurked near the corner of the room.

With a sigh, I got up from the couch and made my way over to him. "Look, I didn't mean to snap at you or anything. It's just --" I broke off, raking my fingers through my hair. "It's a touchy subject."

"I guessed as much." Jon shrugged, giving me a tight smile. We stared at each other for a few more moments, locked in the conflict between saying something and keeping our silence before he broke away eye contact. "I relate. I lost my mom too. She ... didn't make it when my little sister, Joanne, was born."

I opened my mouth but closed it instead as an afterthought. Shaking my head, I raised my hand and touched his cheek lightly.

*

Our group was an odd combination: Patrick in a devil costume, Ray dressed up as Roger of Your Catalytic Relationship from the Black Parade era, Tyler and Josh looking like they appeared from one of Twenty Two Airplanes music videos and Jon and I wearing Jacob and Ron's costumes from Anxiety! At the Club's old tours. While I had no problem with mine and Jon's, I had only come to the realization that my friends' band weren't in matching outfits when we were walking to the multipurpose hall.

"Are you kidding me?" Ray gave me a scandalized glare when I opined my thoughts. "It's cute and all but I want to enjoy the party and feel unique." He said and pushed the set of double doors leading into the hall. Two teachers or the chaperones for tonight, checked out tickets before letting us in. Ray immediately broke off to meet with his girlfriend who was in a zombie cheerleader costume by the bleachers.

Patrick headed to find his other friends and Josh and Tyler had disappeared somewhere. The place was crowded with the tonight's partygoers and some electro track was being played. The atmosphere was noisy but it was definitely upbeat. I caught Lynn in the crowd with another girl, dressed identically in the same vampire chick get-up. My eyes drifted over to Ray who was with Mikey Way, looking like a biker kid, and Gerard and Frank, who wear wearing Revenge-era YCR clothes.

"Hey, is it me or are those two waving at you?" It was Jon who said that, giving me a tiny start as I had almost forgotten he was here with me. I followed the direction where he was pointing and nearly guffawed aloud.

Vic was sporting this alarmingly loud floral patterned shirt while Jaime wore an afro that could almost match up to Ray's. Shaking my head, I went over to the side where the two were stationed. It seemed like they were collecting ballots or something because there were two boxes with a slits on their tops sitting on the table Vic and Jaime were at.

"What's this?" I asked, eyeing the box curiously.

"Didn't you know?" Vic sounded astonished. "We're having the Best Matched Duo and Best Matched Group thingy tonight. You two should totally join." He suggested.

"Oh." I mumbled, feeling my cheeks heat up when I glanced towards Jon beside me. "Do you want to?" I asked him, shyly.

"Just write your names on this and get your asses in." Jaime said with a laugh, pushing a pen and paper in Jon's hands. "Do it for us."

"Why?" Jon frowned in bafflement.

Vic and Jaime exchanged resigned looks like they were getting tired of being asked that. "We totally would." Vic sighed. "But the Student Council's president, Sarah Orzechowski, thinks it'd be better if we didn't because she doesn't exactly trust us." He whispered over the music, jabbing his thumb at a girl in a skeleton costume.

"You two match?" I asked, frowning at them.

Jaime laughed. "No, we don't. We just thought we'd join just for fun."

"If anything, you two look like my grandpa from the sixties." Jon commented and the two Latino boys grinned widely like they were flattered. We walked away after that, occasionally pausing to speak with some of the people we knew in the crowd when I spotted someone familiar nearby. Stopping short, I narrowed my eyes in an effort to make out who is was. "Spencer?"

The boy turned his wide blue eyes at me before recognition dawned on his features. "Oh, hey Ryan!" He smiled at me. "Here for the party or Battle of the Bands?" He was dessed in a crisp white button-down shirt, black pants and a matching waistcoat.

"Both. I'm actually supporting my friends." I answered. "You?"

He held up his drumsticks. "Here to play. That's a cool outfit, by the way." He commented.

"Thanks. So, who are you playing with?" I asked.

"Me, actually." We turned to find Brendon, wearing something similar to Spencer's: white button-down shirt with short sleeves, black pants and more interestingly, a curiously patterned bowtie and suspenders. He was regarding me with a strange expression. "I think our performance will be after your friends'." He added thoughtfully.

"Probably." I allowed a shrug, ignoring the beat of my heart under my ribcage whose pace had quickened at the sight of him. Spencer alternated looks between us before he mumbled something about getting his drum kit set and hurried off, leaving Brendon and I alone.

I was expecting him to leave, especially since I had snapped at him a week ago and not spoken to him till today. It was funny how I hadn't bothered if Brendon didn't say anything to me before but here I was now with a bated breath hoping he'd speak.

Brendon looked at me for a long time with a considering expression, arms crossed, before he said, "You look good."

My breath caught. "Thanks." I mumbled, glancing down at myself; while I was confident of how I looked earlier, I was starting to feel awkwardly self-conscious of my own outfit. I hesitated to ponder what he thought of my face, which was painted with the design that Ron of Anxiety! had once wore. "You too." I added.

It wasn't necessarily a lie; he did look good, even in those silly suspenders. How could anyone look attractive in those?

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. His brown eyes seemed to shine playfully in the lights. "Have a drink with me." He said.

My heart skipped a beat. "What?" I glanced up at him past my lashes in surprise.

He gestured at the table where we could get some refreshments. "There's punch." He added, like he was trying to convince me to join him.

I narrowed my eyes skeptically. "How do I know if it's not spiked?" I demanded.

"Well." He bit his lower lip consideringly. "It's a party, Ryro. You should have fun." As soon as he said those words, the very same words he had said at Gerard's party, made my chest tighten uncomfortably. "Nah, I'm sure the teachers are keeping an eye out." He threw in hastily when my expression darkened.

"Oh, I should --" I glanced around, disappointed that Jon wasn't anywhere nearby me so I could use him as an excuse to get away from Brendon. I turned back to the brunet boy. "Fine. But just one drink, okay?" I said firmly and something sparked behind Brendon's eyes. I didn't pause to contemplate what that could've meant, instead followed him.

I peered at the food with interest while he got the drinks. Of course there were loads of candies placed in bowls but before I could take one, he returned.

"Here." He said, giving me a cup. "They were only serving punch right now."

"Okay." I accepted it from him and our fingers brushed in the slightest. There was this small tingle of excitement from the contact but Brendon drew away quickly, averting his eyes. Feeling my heart squeeze for no apparent reason, I bit my lower lip. "So, where are your bandmates?" I asked lamely.

He peered at me over the rim of his cup as he drank. "Around." He gestured lazily. "I don't know. Kenny kinda left me at the bleachers to talk to his girlfriend and I got bored so ... Yea."

"And Dallon?" I heard my own anxious tone creeping in and cleared my throat to force it away. "Not that I --"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "He's late." Something about the frown he was wearing didn't convince me.

The fact that Dallon wasn't at the party for now gave me certain motivational boost and the tension that was coiling like a snake in the pit of my stomach dissipated. I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. "What's your band called?"

He made a face. "It's - don't make fun of it, okay? - It's Pet Salamander." He wrinkled his nose.

"What?"

"Exactly. I hate the name but Dallon wanted it so badly because 'it sounds unique.'" He made air quotes, looking annoyed. "I didn't want to hurt his feelings so I agreed to it and now I regret it." He sighed, pushing his hair impatiently. "But as long as he's happy about it ..." The way he said that last sentence made a bitter knot tighten in my chest.

The words came spilling out next, against my will. "You're not dating him, right?" My eyes flew wide with disbelief and I bit my lip furiously, hoping he wouldn't find it fishy that I had asked this question.

Fortunately, Brendon was distracted, standing on his tiptoes as he searched the crowd for someone - I had no doubt he was looking for Dallon. He faced me with a perfectly arched eyebrow. Then an uncertain expression appeared fleetingly on his features before it was gone. "Dallon's been my friend for a long time. He's the most loyal person I know and he always has my back whenever I need him. And God, he can be so annoying sometimes but he always knows how to cheer me up or take my mind of something, y'know?" He added with a laugh, eyes gleaming with affection for his friend.

My chest tightened and I knew I was envious. I resented the fact that Dallon could've been me. I was jealous that he got to be friends with Brendon while I lost him. Was Dallon a replacement for me? It felt like it. I tried my best not to show how hurt I was hearing him speak this way about his best friend but my eyes stung so I looked away.

"Maybe you should date him." I said in a lifeless tone, my own words a traitor to how I truly felt.

Brendon's gaze widened but he said nothing. "I would date Dallon." He began slowly and cautiously. "But I'm not sure if now's the right time for it." He met my eyes.

I stared at him mutely. My hands were shaking and I was grateful that my cup wasm't full otherwise I would've spilt some. My pulse was hammering away in my ears, drowning out the noise of my surroundings. There was a stirring in my chest, an urge that pleaded me to act on it as those brown eyes focused on mine with an unspoken message.

But he cleared his throat, a harsh sound that broke through my reverie, and he turned his face away. I wasn't certain if the color on his cheeks were from the strobe lights or from the blood creeping into his face. I heard him inhale sharply before he looked at me again. "I'll see you around then." He said.

And before I could respond, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on my cheek. An almost inaudible gasp escaped from my chest from my shock.

But he was already drawing away without giving me another look that could've given any sort of explanation for what he did. He melted into the crowd, leaving me staring after him with my hand pressed to the side of my face. My skin tingled from his lips.


	32. 30

My intention of attending the school's Halloween party was to enjoy and have fun for the night, not sit on the top row of bleachers to the side of the hall watching Brendon from a distance. The fruit punch he had gotten for me earlier now sat on the spot beside me, abandoned after a few sips from it. It was too sweet for my liking but instead of throwing it away, I held onto it.

I was still very confused about the kiss he had given me on my cheek as ridiculous theories of the reason behind his action appeared in my head. It was hard to understand him. One moment he could be the worst kind of douchebag and the next he'd be the most charming person. Did he treat everyone he knew this way or was that behavior reserved for me like some sort of secret form of revenge?

Letting out a sigh, I pulled my legs up to my body, hugging my knees as I watched Brendon tune up his instruments with his friends near at the spot by the stage that was reserved for participants of the Battle of the Bands event. It came as no surprise that as soon as Dallon had arrived he had assumed his regular position of staying within two feet of Brendon. The taller boy was there now, throwing his back in laughter when Brendon did some strange impression of a wild fowl.

My chest tightened at the sight, a bitter taste of resentment rising at the back of my throat.

I was so focused on sending Dallon death glares that I didn't realize Jon climbing up the rows of the bleachers to sit beside me. "Hey." He smiled, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "I've been looking for you."

I was about to say something that would most likely put him off but held back at the last moment, biting my lower lip. Instead, I settled for touching his hand, which was still on my shoulder, with the tips of my fingers in an almost absentminded manner. "Yea."

He took a glance at the punch then back at me. "You don't want that?" He pointed at my unfinished drink. I shook my head and picked the cup to hand it over to him. He drained it before setting the cup next to him. "So, everyone's down there setting up the stuff." He told me, pointing at the tiny figures which were our friends. "Do you wanna go and see if they're okay?"

I was about to agree to his suggestion but my eyes were once again distracted by Brendon being all playful with Dallon - no doubt the giraffe was enjoying every moment of Brendon's attention on him. My stomach constricted. "Nah, I'm good." I waved my hand dismissively. "Besides, I'm sure they'll do fine." I forced myself to look at our friends instead; Ray seemed to be giving a pep talk to the rest.

There was an expression on Jon's face that indicated that he wanted to argue before it softened into something that appeared suspiciously like concern. If he was going to ask me how I was feeling - not that I didn't want him to - I was fairly sure that I wouldn't talk about it. I was proven right the moment he opened his mouth. "We could go home, if you want to."

I could've gotten everything over with, forget about Brendon and Dallon and how conflicted I was by being here. I could've gone home with Jon, maybe stay at his place for the night and then talk about things until we fall asleep. But some stubborn part of me wanted to stay.

"No thanks." I said. "Really, Jon. I'm alright." I assured him but the lie was cutting right through me. Pressing my lips together I stood up and stretched my arms over my head. "Wanna pig out instead?" I asked over my shoulder. "They have some of my favorite candy." I heard his faint snort of laughter behind me and felt a smile tugging my lips into a curved smirk.

"Don't say Jelly Beans." He said as we picked our way carefully down the bleachers to the table where we could find the items of confectionery.

I snapped my fingers, mocking an expression of surprise. "Dammit! Well lucky for you, I'm hooked for these." I grabbed the mini chocolate bars.

Jon was picking the fruit-flavored sweets. "Not gonna have the caramel ones?" He asked, popping a strawberry-flavored candy into his mouth.

I wrinkled my nose. "Ew, no. I hate caramel." I replied and he shook his head at me, saying something about how odd I was for not liking caramel. "It tastes weird, alright?"

We found Pete hopping up and down on the spot nearby as though he was attempting to lift off from the ground. I stopped short before approaching him. "Hi Pete, what's up?"

"Psyching myself for the Bands thing. It helps keep my nerves at bay." He responded and I exchanged a baffled look with Jon. "Those are rad outfits by the way.  _Anxiety! At the Club_ , much?" He gestured at the both of us curiously.

Jon nodded, pleased. "Yes. Ryan and I are Ron and Jacob. What about you?" He eyed Pete's outfit with a certain degree of confusion because Pete looked like his usual self, dressed in those tight black jeans, distressed band tee and perfectly-smudged eyeliner.

Pete snickered like we were all sharing an inside joke, except for the part where we were all supposed to know what it was. He spread his arms slightly, wearing an amused grin. "I'm dressed as an Emo."

"What?" Jon snorted. "You serious?" He sounded amused and bewildered by Pete's statement, earning a badly-suppressed laugh from me.

"Yea." Pete nodded. "It's for kicks, y'know? Okay, I really didn't want to wear this embarrassing green superhero costume my friend, Bebe Rexha, got me. Just don't tell her I'm here though. She'd kill me if she knew." He added, throwing an unnecessary warning glare at the both of us. "Anyway, I gotta go look for Zach and Gabe. See ya!"

After some milling about and feasting on the candy we smuggled, we were feeling thirsty so we went to have some of the soda. I was thirsty so I didn't really pause to think of why the lemonade smelled a little strong as I downed my drink. I winced when the liquid burned on its way down my throat. Fighting back a cough, I frowned at my cup.

Jon furrowed his brows but continued to finish his anyway. "I think there's alcohol in this." He said.

"You fucking finished the drink."

He shrugged. "Well, it isn't really fun if you're the only sober person in a room full of drunk people, right?" He chuckled then frowned. "What?"

"But we're not actually old enough to drink." As soon as I whispered it out, I felt kinda stupid. Well, what kind of teenager wouldn't pass up the chance to have real fun for a night? My fingers tightened, a soft crinkling noise telling me that if I gripped any harder the cup in my hand would crumple. I stared at the refreshments' table consideringly before letting my eyes travel past it around the hall. It was then when my gaze slid over to meet Brendon's.

I bit my lip.  _This is stupid_. I thought as I walked over to the table. There was already a line for the soda - I wondered if word had traveled so quickly - and when it was my turn to take some of the adulterated drink.

 _Fucking_ _stupid_.

*

About two rounds of soda-booze and I was feeling very tipsy. I was feeling rather lightheaded and my mind was foggy but there was something I didn't recognize when I was sober. The colored lights played beautiful patterns on everything like a dreamlike quality. I was actually mingling with the crowd with an ease that I didn't associate with myself. It was nice not being awkward for once in my life.

I was listening to Pete recount something that happened a week ago, involving a toothbrush and some duct tape, with my arm draped around Jon. At some point, the Battle of the Bands event had started but we weren't paying much attention until the MC announced, "And next up, we have  _The Wayward Souls_  doing their cover of Run Dry by Philip Branch!"

"Oh!" Jon exclaimed, swiveling round his heel to face the stage. "That's our band!"

"Our band?" I repeated in confusion.

He giggled, hand curling around my wrist before he pulled me away from the others. I flashed Pete an apologetic and confused look, only to find him following me with an expression of curiosity. "What's going on?" I asked Jon as we squeezed past the crowd to get to the front ...

Only to find Patrick, Ray, Josh and the other members onstage.

My jaw dropped in surprise and excitement. "OH MY GOSH!" I practically screamed, making a few heads to turn in my direction. Pete moved to stand beside me, the frown on his face dissipating when he noticed Patrick right in front of him. Patrick, who was giving me a nervous grin, paled when he saw Pete next to me and quickly averted his eyes to his guitar, pretending to fiddle with it.

Meanwhile, Kellin grinned at me from MC's table, catching my reaction. "Let's give it up for them!" He yelled, making the whole room erupt into roars.

" _One last shot I'm quitting forever / cross my heart, cross my fingers_." Patrick began to sing when they began to play the music. Loud cheers were heard all around us, contagious upbeat energy buzzing the air. I wasn't aware of myself screaming the lyrics back but it sure was fun when everybody was enjoying themselves.

It was like watching a new side to my friends. Ray was ripping it at the guitar and Josh was banging away at the drums to the beat, the both of them bobbing their heads to the music. Patrick's voice was just unreal, the way he could hit every note right.

"THIS IS FREAKING AWESOME!" Jon hollered, pumping his fist to the song. "PETE! SING IT WITH US!" He called to the boy beside me, who was moving his head to the music with a rather awkward grin that looked more like a grimace.

Pete started, eyes wide. "Oh I --"

His words were swallowed up when Patrick sang, " _I'm not just drunk / I really think I'm in love with you, baby!_ " Pete's cheeks went bright red and he started to back away.

"I think I need a few more drinks," was the last thing I heard him say before he was swallowed by the crowd. I glanced at Patrick, long enough to give him a knowing smirk but my friend didn't see instead was focused on playing his guitar, cranking out some awesome riffs to complement.

With a shrug, I turned my attention back to the music and danced along - or rather hopped on the spot like a crazed rabbit to the music, while swinging my arms in the air. It was freaking awesome and by the time the song ended, I was sweating and panting but it felt really good. The Wayward Souls signed off and I made as if to follow them but they disappeared behind the stage.

I bit back my disappointment, wanting to celebrate with my friends at how amazing their performance first with the soda-booze but before I could move, Kellin was already announcing the next band. " ... Pet Salamander!"It was like somebody had switched my hearing on. My head spun around so fast, I almost got whiplash.

Standing on the stage now, a tantalizing few feet away was Brendon. His eyes were slightly wider than usual and I was familiar with that look; he was nervous. His hands were clutching his microphone tightly, till the whites of his knuckles popped up. He couldn't see me, not while I was peering at him past the shoulders of two tall girls who decided to stand in front of me.

There was the sound of Spencer hitting his drumsticks together before they began to play. " _Stop stalling, make a name for yourself / Boy, you better put that pen to paper, charm your way out_." Brendon started to sing.

My breath was caught in my throat out of sheer surprise at how his singing voice managed to send shivers down my spine. I wanted to move but with him performing onstage, my feet were stuck to the spot like glue. I thought he kept glancing around like he was searching for someone whenever he neared Dallon's side of the stage. My stomach tightened when I noticed the smug way the taller boy eyed Brendon.

My focus on the song, on Brendon's voice, was snapped when Brendon went over to Dallon, put his hand out when Dallon reached for it and licked it playfully.

The crowd went wild at their gesture however their loud, combined voices weren't audible over the hammering of my pulse in my ears. I felt my knees weaken, followed by my heart freezing up. I stared at the both Dallon and Brendon with utter disbelief, eyes wide. I was vaguely aware of Jon pushing his way to me, only registering the sudden desire to get away from the stage, from the pressure of bodies enclosed in one space, from the pain that was repeatedly stabbing my chest.

Fighting back the stinging in my eyes, I shoved my way out of the crowd, nearly stumbling on feet and people.

*

It was probably a bad idea but I just had my sixth round of soda-booze; I was feeling very drunk and ill but the inebriated sensation dulled the hurt in my chest. I was crouched against the wall outside of the school approximately twelve minutes after  _Pet Salamander's_  performance began. Despite the coolness of the air around me, I was sweating and there was that awful nauseous feeling swimming around in my brain.

I squeezed my eyes shut in efforts to stop the lightheaded feeling that was making me want to throw up but when I did, I could only see Dallon licking Brendon's hand with a sultry look in his eyes and Brendon grinning like he enjoyed it after. My eyes began to water again and my throat tightened.  _I won't cry_. I told myself firmly as I dragged myself up to my feet.  _I won't cry_.

Anger and hurt were churning dangerously in the space under my ribcage and the desire to destroy something suffocated me. Balling my hands into a fist, I attempted to steady my quickening breaths and loosened my scarf. Inhaling, I decided to take a walk at the parking lot - if you could call stumbling on my own feet and banging against car hoods painfully in the knees. The acrid smell of cigarette smoke stabbed my nose and immediately I felt the sudden urge to have a joint.

Following the smell, I managed to make my way to a beat-up looking silver Toyota. I knew there was a driver present in the vehicle from the hand sticking out of the open window. I bit my lip and strode over, yanking on the door open, thinking for a second about how stupid whoever the person was for not locking the doors. I was hopping into the shotgun seat, turning to face the driver.

"Can I have one of --" My voice died in my throat when I recognized the person's features. Wide startled brown eyes and messy hair, with a cigarette right in between both pink lips.

It was Brendon.


	33. 31

"Smoking is bad." The words flew right out of my mouth, ignorant of the sheer irony of my curiosity tempting me to try a cigarette. I pointed at his joint when he continued to stare at me. "It's bad for you." I repeated, sounding very much like a bossy child.

Brendon narrowed his gaze at me, rolled his eyes, and shook his head. He drew a long drag from his cigarette before he exhaled smoke. Somehow, my attention was snatched by the way such a formless thing could create such a beautiful shape from his lips. He shook his head and scrolled through his phone. "You're drunk."

I scoffed, crossing my arms and glaring at him petulantly. "Am not."

"You are."

"Am  _not_.

"You  _are_." He waved his hand at me, the cigarette in between in his fingers. "Besides, did you think you can lie to me? You stink of alcohol." He wrinkled his nose.

"And  _you_  stink." I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Is that  _seriously_  your comeback?" A corner of his mouth tugged upwards as he moved to face me. "Unbelieavable." Some indie rock band was playing softly on his stereo, setting up a mood that would've been more appropriate for situations unlike a minor argument between two boys, one of which who was smoking and the other drunk.

"Deal with it." I shot back, plucking a pair of Ray-Bans from the cup holder and placing them on the top of my head. If my sober self saw me now, he'd be appalled. Not that I cared. I just wanted to make a point to Brendon. I stared back at him when the sunglasses slipped and fell awkwardly on the bridge of my nose. "Ow." I winced, taking the Ray-Bans off my face.

There was a small muffled sound coming from Brendon and when I looked at him in confusion, he went back to blowing smoke, now making them form rings. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to smoke." I responded in a childishly peremptory tone, making him give me a baffled frowm.

"It's bad for little boys like you." A smug tone clouded over his words as he waggled his finger at me.

"I am  _not_  a little boy." An indignant flush of heat spread over my cheeks. I couldn't help but point out, "I'm seventeen and I'm older than you by a few months. And I want your cigarette." Stubbornly, I plucked the joint out of his hand - he didn't make a move to snatch it back, instead regarded me with interest - and took a drag out of it. Bad move. I was doing it too fast and ended up coughing on the smoke, choking on gaseous poison.

" _Face it._  You don't know how to smoke. What a baby." While his voice sounded mocking, there was a flicker of worry in his eyes. He picked the cigarette out of my fingers before placing it in between his lips. Noticing the curious way I was regarding him, a smirk tugged his features. "Watch and learn, Ryro." His tone dropped to a smooth, silky caress when the tip of the cigarette burned bright orange. Then he was exhaling the smoke.

Right in my face.

The acrid smell of smoke stabbed my nostrils and my eyes squeezed shut almost immediately. However, there was something I found pleasant about the whole affair, as strange as it sounded. In that moment, I liked the idea of how the smoke, fanning my face, was from his lungs. A stirring of desire for more of this tugged the pit of my stomach. Then I opened my eyes, watching as he flicked the cigarette out the open window.

He placed his phone down, the screen still illuminated with whatever it was he had been reading. He didn't speak, instead appeared as if he was trying to figure out what to do with a drunk kid in his car.

Ignoring his death glare when I picked his phone up, I read aloud. "' _You're comparing me to something that could've killed me. How is that fair?'_   _'Because everything I feel is amplified with you.'_ " A faint jolt of surprise passed me. "Wait, you're reading the The Breathing Rate of a Sparrow?" I demanded and while it was too dark to see, the look on his face told me that he was blushing.

" _None of your business_." He snapped, taking his phone out of my hands. "And I don't like this drunk version of you, for the record. You're very  _nosy_." He scowled at me, switching on the car ignition. "It's fucking annoying."

"I didn't know you shipped Ron and Benjy."

"Now you do." He sighed, scrubbing the back of his hand across his face. A low irritated groan escaped from his throat. "I'm sending you home."

" _No!_ " I burst out, staring at him with utter disbelief. "Mom'll  _kill_  me." I protested weakly when the car began to move. Hastily, I buckled up my seatbelt.

"Deal with it." He shot back as he pulled out of the parking lot. That fucking bastard. I decided to keep my mouth shut as Brendon looked like he'd rather if I pretended to be invisible for the meantime. He turned up the volume, filling the silence between us with more indie rock music. I wasn't a big fan of the genre but at least it was decent enough for me to stave off the urge to throw myself onto the road to escape the awkwardness.

After four songs and a detergent commercial were played on the radio I realized he had missed the turn to my block. Tugging my seatbelt anxiously, I sat up. My heart was hammering in my throat. "Why aren't you sending me home?" I asked quietly so not to annoy Brendon more than he already was with me.

"Because." He responded, driving down a few streets before he turned a corner and drove up to a house I barely recognized. "You're staying at my place."

My jaw dropped in astonishment. "What?" I could hear the confusion coloring my voice.

Brendon didn't look at me, only switched the headlights and the ignition off. The music was cut off, dropping the silence on both of us. He raked his finger through his hair with a sigh. "I figured your mother wouldn't want to be waken up at a time like this to deal with her drunk son." He answered, his tone softer than usual, before he showed me the time on his phone.

I bit my lip. "I didn't realize it was almost one am."

He shrugged and got out of the car. Struggling with my seatbelt, it took me a few tries with my clumsy fingers and alcohol-addled brain to free myself. I shoved the door open and stepped outside, hurrying after Brendon. A wave of a sick sensation that squeezed by stomach batted over my senses when I crossed the front yard. I stumbled, my breaths becoming more and more shallow.

"I --  _Brendon!_ " I called out desperately, forcing myself to straighten up and walk towards the front door. I could taste vomit creeping up the back of my throat and knew I was going to throw up in a matter of time. Nausea was hitting me and I was barely aware of Brendon half-dragging, half-leading me inside the house when I found myself fetching up against the toilet bowl, regurgitating my guts out. If alcohol burned on the way in, it burned even worse on the way out, setting my throat on fire.

The stench of my own vomit stabbed my nostrils and I gagged, coughing out my stomach's contents out. The steady pounding on my back, I realized belatedly, was from Brendon's hand. I didn't even know why he was staying while I puked, or why he was holding my hair away from my face. My fingers gripped the rim of the toilet bowl as the last retch forced whatever poison was still in me as I felt his hand brush the back of my neck.

My mouth tasted awful, spit and vomit mixed on my tongue. I felt disgusted and dirty and I hated it. Regret was echoing in my head mockingly, chiding me for being so stupid for drinking alcohol in the first place. I wondered what it was like for Brendon to be around me in this pitiful state if I already despised how I was right now.

Weakly, I pushed him away when he flushed the toilet. "Why are you still here?" I asked, in between labored pants.

His hands slipped under my arms before he was pulling me up to my feet and leading me to the sink. I avoided looking at mirror as he helped to turn the faucet on for me, not wanting to see if there was any sympathy in his features. "I honestly don't know." He mumbled in reply and that was when I snuck a glance at him.

There was a conflicted expression on his features, like he was currently having an internal argument. But about what? Did it involve me and something else? A mix of indignation and self-loathing swelled painfully in my chest. The backs of my eyes began to sting as I realized how much trouble I was putting him through - I mean, I knew that the drunk me was a handful and it was too late at night to be dealing with me. "I think you should go." I murmured past my tight and painful throat.

He hesitated, eyes flickering. "You sure?" He didn't sound pleased that I was sending him away. His hand hovered in the air, a few inches away from my shoulder; it was like he wanted to touch me yet he couldn't. I hated how disappointed I felt that I didn't feel the pressure of his palm on me when he dropped his hand.

"Yes." I responded. Before I embarrass myself further in your house. I added silently, watching him through the reflection of mirror as he turned on his heel and exited the bathroom. I stared, long after he had left, and I felt so guilty of putting him through this.

*

Once I had cleaned myself up to the best I could, I went out of the bathroom. The hallway was dark, save for the light spilling onto the floor from the kitchen. I looked around with a frown, not at all sure Brendon's room was. As if by instinct, my feet carried me forward, up the stairs and right to the first door I spotted at the top of the stairs. Placing my hand on the doorknob, I hesitated. Then I raised my hand and knocked. "Beebo?" I called softly through the door.

There was some shuffling from the other side when the door opened, revealing the boy behind it. He was no longer wearing that distracting bowtie however what drew my attention away from his face was the perfect strip of skin exposed from his unbuttoned shirt. My mouth went dry as a sudden wanting to have him right against me seized me. I bit down on my lip, hard, trying not to stare but it was so difficult not to ogle him.

His brows furrowed, not with annoyance but with concern as he moved aside to allow me inside. My cheeks burned as I entered. There was just something intimate about being invited into someone's bedroom. My eyes avoided his for the fear that he might read the things that were popping up in my mind and scanned around instead.

Unlike my room, Brendon's was awfully neat. Everything was arranged neatly, right from the books on his shelves to the papers on his desk. The only thing that jarred the whole impression were the boxes pushed to one corner, stacked precariously on top of one another; I suspected those were his belongings from his old home. My chest constricted in my chest as I contemplated whether the reason why he hadn't put them away was because it was too painful for him to do so.

"You should change into these." Brendon said from behind me, gesturing at the clothes placed on his bed. After I nodded in understanding, he hesitated before thinking better of what he wanted to do before turning away. The door closed behind him when he left. Biting my lip, I looked around the room before sinking onto his bed. Suddenly, I felt very confused about his gestures.

With a loud exhalation, I collapsed onto the bed when I felt something hard under my back. My nose scrunched up with discomfort as I sat up to pull out whatever it was under me to find that I had tried to lie down on the clothes Brendon had asked me to change into. I stared at them now, from the pair of pajama pants to the worn, old t-shirt with an expression of thoughtfulness. There was a dull ache of longing in my chest as I spread then out on the space beside me. I reached for the t-shirt and raised it to my face, inhaling.

It smelled like Brendon. Faint vanilla, with a hint of what I assumed was the smell of fresh laundry on the fabric.

A wave of familiarity and comfort washed over me as I pressed his shirt to my face, taking in the scent of him deeply. Curling up, I held onto it like a favorite blanket when my eyelids began to droop, sleep wrapping me in its arms.

*

I awoke to the noise of shuffling. As the room was dim and the sounds were being caused by something out of the range of my peripheral vision, I started and sat up abruptly.

Brendon, who was rummaging his closet to wear, whirled around me with a look of surprise. "I thought you were asleep." He said, with a faint amount of surprise under his casual tone.

"I  _was_." I responded, stifling a yawn as I rubbed my eyes. A frown settled on my features before it was wiped away when I realized that he was practically naked except for that pair of loose red boxers. My pulse became audible in my ears. I swallowed, trying to force my eyes back on his. "Are you going to sleep?" I asked, wincing inwardly at how breathless I sounded.

He was tugging a shirt on and a pair of old gray sweatpants before he regarded me. "Yea." He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. He pressed his lips together before pointing at the nightstand. I glanced over. "There's some water for you, in case you want some." He explained before he turned around and stood on his tiptoes to reach for something on the top shelf in his closet.

"Wait, where are you going to sleep?" Concern and confusion began to percolate when I realized that he was reaching for a spare blanket. He came right around the bed, grabbing his pillow.

"The couch downstairs has my name on it for tonight." He answered.

"Brendon --" I protested and he raised his eyebrow with questioningly. My heart was hammering away in my chest. I drew a breath before meeting his gaze and patting the spot beside me. "Stay." I pleaded softly.

A look of surprise passed his features when an almost guilty expression settled itself on his face. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to take up your space --"

"Brendon."

"Just go back to sleep." He said, starting for the door. "You --" He broke off when I, in an attempt to stop him, scrambled forward and tugged the hem of his shirt. Slowly, his eyes met mine. "Ryan ..." He whispered softly.

"Please stay." I murmured, hearing my own voice catch at the last part. "For me?" I added, regarding him through my lashes.

His resolve weakened almost visibly before he let out a sigh and dropped the blanket on the floor in a soft pile. I released my hold on him, settling back on the mattress as he clambered into bed beside me. There was a respectable amount of space between us, I noticed as he laid down, facing the ceiling. Shifting, I turned onto my side and drew the sheets over us. The urge to close the distance between us was daring me to do so but the most I gave myself was face him.

Brendon's chest rose and fell rhythmically but he was still wide awake. He didn't say anything but from the way his lashes veiled his eyes I knew he was thinking about something. The silence was too loud to my ears. Clearing my throat softly, I propped myself up a little on my elbow before speaking, "Remember that night you showed up at my place?" I didn't know why I wanted to bring this up but I guess it was because I found it ironic how the roles were switched now.

Drunk me and sober Brendon in bed together.

When he didn't respond, I added, "When you were looking for Willow's house and ended up at mine after a party?" I bit my lip, regarding him.

He moved his face to look at me. "Some parts." He replied. "Why?"

"I ... I don't know." I rested on my side, looking up at him. "How did you climb up to my room?"

"I'm half-ninja." He responded immediately, turning on his side so we were now facing each other.

A chuckle spilled past my lips. "No shit, Sherlock."

"I'm Brendon."

"I knew that." I searched his face, pausing a moment. "I'm sorry." I whispered.

A frown creased his forehead. "For what?"

"For ... making you bring me home so I could give you a hell of a lot more trouble than usual."

"Ok, first off: I brought you home because I wanted to. Second: you can count this as payback for that time I crashed at your place." His gaze softened. "Really, Ryan, I don't mind that you're here."

"You don't?"

"Nope." He said, never taking his gaze off mine. His hand ghosted over my cheek, light as butterfly wings. My eyes fluttered half-shut, almost lazily as he traced his finger over my skin, dipping down my jawline to my pulse point. I could feel my own heartbeat under his fingertip. "Ryan?" He breathed.

"Yea?" My voice sounded thick with desire as I shifted closer to him. I could feel the warmth radiating off his skin from under the covers as I placed my hand on his hip while his hand slid up to my nape. "What is it?"

In the dim light, the pupils in his brown eyes seemed enormous, reflecting me in them, when they flickered. "Can --" He began, sounding a bit strangled. "Can I kiss you?" He whispered.

I felt myself go breathless for a moment from hearing how much he wanted me from the tone of his voice. And I wasn't ashamed to admit that I desired him as much as he did for me. Drunk or sober, there was no way I could deny that I still longed for his lips on mine, our bodies pressed and tangled up with each other, and the feeling of his hands roaming over my bare skin. The pinching sensation in my abdomen intensified, almost painfully, when he moved closer so the tips of our noses brushed against each other.

He didn't need me to reply because as soon as he moved forward, I did too.


	34. 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they uhh do the dirty so if youre not comfortable, you may skip this chapter!

"I don't think this is working." I mumbled away from the slow measured kisses Brendon was giving me, shifting on the bed. We were making out on our sides and it was getting awkwardly uncomfortable as our arms were either pinned under our own bodies or squashed under the other's.

His eyes were feverishly bright but the look on his face told me that he did agree. Making a muffled noise of amusement, he sank back against his pillow, half-facing me and half-facing the ceiling. "Frankly, it played out better in my head." He said softly as I moved towards him.

"It did?" A faint trace of curiosity lingered in my tone as I attached my mouth to the corner of his lips. My body was now pressed up against his side, an arm and a leg thrown carelessly over him.

A soft groan escaped him as I teased him with a fleeting kiss before moving along his jawline while trailing my hand, which had been laying flat on his chest, downwards to the perfect strip of exposed skin between his waistband and the hem of his t-shirt. "Ryro, don't do this to me." He whined, picking my hand before placing it on his neck. His skin was hot to the touch and I could feel his quick pulse under my fingers; it matched the pace of mine.

I felt a smirk forming as I regarded him through my lashes. I continued to kiss him, earning soft, muffled noises from as my lips ghosted to his earlobe. I nibbled it playfully. "Don't do what?" I whispered with faux-innocence.

Brendon stiffened underneath me when I felt his hands wrap around my hip and him shifting under me so that I was half-lying, half-straddling his waist. A tremble of surprise and satisfaction ran through me when I looked at him; his cheeks were flushed and his gaze gleamed with a  suppressed form of excitement. I propped myself up on my elbows, so I wouldn't squash him, and brushed my nose against his.

"Don't do what, Beebo?" I repeated, dipping with a teasing kiss on his lips.

" _Fuck_." He swore thickly under his breath, eyes fluttering half-shut when I returned to kissing his neck, sucking gently on the spot where I could feel his heartbeat. "That - It's driving me -  _Oh_." A moan escaped from him when his hands, which were on my waist, tightened.

I giggled, nuzzling into him affectionately. His scent had a heady effect on me, only strengthening the desire I was feeling towards him. Propping myself up, my face hovered about two inches away from his. His eyes locked on mine, his fingers crawling up my back to my nape where they curled in my hair. He tilted his head upwards and slanted his mouth carefully across mine. The way he kissed me created warm flutters in my chest as they were careful and gentle; it did make me feel special, in a way.

Then he began to switch it up; he nipped on my lower lip, almost teasingly, earning a surprised but satisfied noise from me, when he began to push his tongue in slowly, dipping in and out. I nearly whimpered aloud, feeling my knees go weak; it wasn't fair how good he was at this and how he was stealing my ability to breathe properly when his hand slipped under my shirt and tugged it upwards so that he could trace patterns over my skin on the small of my back. "B-Brendon? Brendon, I --"

He stopped, opening his eyes. A small frown creased his forehead. "What is it?" He asked.

"I --" The words stuck in my throat. My body might have rid of the alcohol from my stomach but some of it still flowed in my bloodstream, lowering my inhibitions to do want him to do what my sober self could only wish he'd have the courage to. "I want it. I want to do it with you."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Brendon as he regarded me with wide, incredulous eyes. "Y-You do?" His voice shook. He sounded surprised, but excited at the same time.

I nodded, biting my lower lip. His cheeks turn red for a second before a smile tugged at the corner's of his mouth. "Okay."

Suddenly, the world shifted and I was now on my back with him hovering over me, this time he was making sure to get his revenge on me in the form of rough kisses and bites on my neck. The sensation of it all made me feel like I was turning into a mush, helpless against him. "B-Brendon --" I struggled to say his name as he nibbled a sensitive spot on my collarbone when he nipped my skin hard enough to send tingles of pleasure throughout my body.

It was very hard for me to suppress the whimpers and gasps as he slithered down my body, peppering me with kisses. Somehow in the process he managed to get my clothes off, leaving me exposed before him with nothing but my boxers. It didn't help that he was now sucking my hipbone, the hollow of his throat fitting against the bulge in my underwear.

His hands were pinning my waist down, making it difficult for me to squirm, which in a way turned me on even more, and in between my breathy whines, I stuttered something inaudible.

"What?" He broke off, looking up at me with a small frown.

"Take your clothes off." I repeated, half-relieved and half-disappointed that he had stopped nibbling on me. "It's - It's not  _fair_ that I'm almost naked and you're  _not_." I pointed out, propping myself up on my elbows a bit.

The corners of his lips tugged upwards into a smirk, eyes gleaming with amusement. He chuckled, giving me a wink that made blood rush into my ears, before he removed his clothes one by one and made sure to keep his gaze on me the whole time. The slow and exquisitely torturous affair left me trembling with anticipation.

I was short of breath when his fingers closed around his waistband when he hesitated. Not that I was particularly impatient or anything but I asked, "What's wrong?"

A flush covered his cheeks. "I'm ... insecure." He admitted shyly.

My eyebrows arched in surprise. "Insecure?" I echoed in bewilderment and he nodded. "Of your dick?" I asked stupidly.

And he laughed in amusement and incredulity. "No, Ryro. You silly boy. I'm not comfortable in my body." He said and looked at mine as if he'd rather have all the flat planes and angles of mine instead of his slight curves.

I felt my own heart ache for him and I got up to my knees, crawling over to him. His eyebrows were arched and he was regarding me with confusion as I looked up at him, placing my hands on his hips. "Well, I'm comfortable in yours." I said and began to tug his boxers down.

His mouth popped open in surprise but then his teeth sank down on his lower lip. I wasn't sure if I was doing it right when I wrapped my mouth around his cock but something told me I was when my lips tightened around his tip experimentally and heard the sharp intake of breath. The taste of him was unfamiliar.

I felt the warm hum of satisfaction from knowing how I was making him feel by hearing him curse in breathless gasps. His hand was in my hair I slid more of his length into my mouth, relishing the unfamiliar taste of him on my tongue and angling myself so that he'd nake more of those noises. I was swirling my tongue over the head when suddenly he bucked his hips upwards without warning. And he hit the back of my throat, causing me to choke in him. Pinpricks of pain stung the backs of my eyes as I drew back, gagging.

" _Oh my lord_ , I'm so sorry!" He exclaimed, looking at me with immense worry. His hands come up to my cheeks as he searched my eyes. "Are you --"

"I'm fine." I said, biting my lip. "But that thing you did there was awful."

An expression of relief and a bit of guilt colored his features. "I didn't mean to." He mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever." I murmured, wrapping my arms around his neck. He nodded, pressing his forehead to mine and pushed me back gently onto the mattress. His hands moved down my body while he kept me busy with kisses on my lips so it took me a few moments to realize he was trying to take my boxers off. I raised my hips up so he could remove them easily, watching as he threw it over his shoulder when I was aware that the both of us were both very naked. And that I was now exposed to him as he was to me.

My cheeks burned but the slight embarrassment I felt disappeared when he returned to kiss me, slowly and passionately. And then he pushed his hips into mine, creating a friction that set fire to my bloodstream. I bit my lip to muffle the moans that were threatening to spill out of me when he grinded against me, following a rhythm.

"No, Ryan." Brendon whispered near my ear, hot breath tickling my skin. "It's alright to let it out."

A groan spilled out of me when he wrapped his hand around both our dicks and began to pump it. My head rolled back against the pillow as I bucked my hips up to feel more of his palm, creating friction. There was a nervous fluttering in my chest when I heard him moan, practically pushing up against me.

He nuzzled my neck before reaching for the drawer by the nightstand. Feeling a newfound surge of courage and exhilaration, I pressed a kiss to his collarbone right on where a lovebite was forming and heard him groan.

"C'mon, Ryro." He said, trying to chide me but giggled anyway. I grinned up at him. He sat back, now holding a condom packet and a tube of lubricant. My throat closed up when he squeezes some of the lube on his fingers and paused.

Concern bubbled in me. "Have you ... been a bottom?" I asked.

He glanced up at me, looking almost embarrassed through that tight lipped smile. "Nope."

"Oh." I nodded and reached out. "Here, just give it to me." I said gently, taking the tube out of his hands. He hesitated before giving it to me, watching me with his lower lip in between his teeth. I was certain the confidence was an after-effect of the alcohol traces in my veins so I didn't really mind that he was staring when I slicked some of the lube on my fingers.

There was a nervous thrill as I sank back against the headboard. Despite the fact that I had only pushed a finger into me, I moaned, dragging it out then back in. Then there was a sharp but familiar sting when I added a second finger. Brendon was still watching me, his lips parted and his eyes dark and wide. I could tell he was trying not to nut all over himself. I scissored my fingers, feeling the sting again but when I began to add a rhythm to it, the pain dulled pleasantly.

I swallowed back a grunt of frustration as I tried to get a better angle when Brendon clambered over me. I stopped - long enough to stare at him in surprise - when he pressed his lips to my cheek, cupping the other side of my face as he bent forward enough to have the tip of him pressing on my stomach. From the little pushes on me, I knew he was fisting his cock as he kissed me lazily. It was driving me wild, from knowing that we were close enough to have sex yet not quite.

"O-Okay, Beebo.  _Please_." I whined, pushing his thigh pleadingly when I removed my fingers from myself. "Can we - Now?" I was breathless and desperately in need of him.

"Yea. Okay." He kissed me, this time on my lips, before he shifted back so I could move. A frown creased his forehead. "I think you should turn over."

"Why?"

"Wouldn't it hurt less?" He said with concern, picking up the condom packet that was left carelessly next to me.

I shrugged but what I wanted now was to look at him while we fuck. Noticing my reluctance, he sighed and gave in to me. Putting the packet in between his teeth, he tried to rip it open but failed a few times. "Stop laughing, you meanie." He rolled his eyes but was laughing with me at his silly attempts. Using his hands this time, he tore the packet open before giving me the condom.

I was hoping, and praying, he wouldn't notice how sweaty and shaky my hands were when I tried to roll the rubber over him; judging from the satisfied 'mm' noises he was making, I allowed myself the benefit of the doubt.

Once he had the condom on, he paused. "Ryro, you have to tell me if I'm hurting you?" He said in a small voice. "Okay?"

"Alright." I replied, pulling him over me.

"Ready?" He whispered, pushing back a stray strand of hair away from my face. I nodded as he kissed me gently when I crossed my ankles loosely on his back, relaxing myself as much as possible even though the nervousness was bunching up in my abdomen. There was the tiniest pressure of something that I registered as his cock - I forced myself not to worry about it and locked my eyes with his instead - when he gave a hard push into me.

There was the shock of feeling something foreign inside me when it was quickly followed by the pain. And I was fairly certain I was about to pass out from it and not in a good way. I tried to think about something else, anything else like the muscles cording underneath his skin, other than the burning sensation but it was no use. Tears stung the backs of my eyes and I was sure my nails were digging very hard in Brendon's skin. I whimpered, panic suddenly setting in.

 _What the fuck, George Ryan Ross III_. I thought angrily.  _Two fingers and scissoring and look at you. Not good!_

"I-I don't think you'll fit."

"Ryan, relax." Brendon gasped. "Ryan, you have to relax otherwise it'll hurt more."

"I-I can't. It  _hurts_." I bit back a cry. "It hurts  _so much_."

"No. Hey. Look at me." His fingers trailed down my cheek, making me look at him. I could see the worry etched into his features as his eyes flickered around my face like he was trying to think of something to distract me from the pain. "It'll get better." He promised and did these tiny thrusts into me while I gulped for air, until he was buried in me in the deepest possible he could get at this point.

The pain wasn't getting any better.

Right now, Brendon looked really guilty and was saying, "Ryro, we don't have to do this if it hurts that much." He was shaking from the effort from holding himself from pushing in - detachedly, I appreciated that. "We can stop if you want to." He said quietly.

I could stop and maybe we could just go back to sleep like nothing had ever happened but some stubborn part of me didn't want to let him go. I wanted him. "No." I replied, trying to steady my labored breaths. "Just move, or something. Jesus fucking Christ."

Biting his lip, he pulled out an inch hesitantly, creating a drag that dulled the pain a little with pleasure. My head felt like it was swimming in a haze. "Don't stop." I gasped and he thrusted a little deeper than before.

I moaned, gripping his hair.

"You okay?"

"Y-Yea." I nodded and frowned at his tight features. "What about you?"

"Fuck." He groaned, eyes almost fluttering shut. "You feel so - amazing." He managed in thick voice, grinding into me slowly. He was shaking from the effort of holding himself back.

I smiled at him and buried my face in his as he started his pace again, thrusting in and out of me slowly. After that I was starting to get used to the feeling of Brendon in me, the pain dulling with the overwhelming sensation of him. and I was certain that I could take more of him. "B-Beebo, can you go faster?"

"But --"

"I won't break." I promised, nipping on his earlobe. "P-Please, I need more."

He nodded and locked his eyes with me when he pushed forward, hard. "Ow." My head knocked against the headboard from the force of him. " _Shut up_." I glared at him when he laughed.

"Sorry." He mumbled, kissing my hair as his hand slid up my abdomen to my chest. "You good if I go faster?" He asked, keeping the his current pace.

"I just said you could, didn't I?" I retorted and his eyes lit up with a bright gleam. And he yanked me away from the headboard so that I wouldn't hit my head again when he slammed into me. I cried out helplessly, but it felt so good, even though I was stretched, hot and sore from his thrusts.

Brendon moaned with every jab into me, barely able to keep his mouth shut from releasing the noises of pleasure. His hand curled around my cock and pumped it in time with his thrusts. And I couldn't keep quiet too. The room was filled with soft sounds and skin slapping on skin.

"Fuck." He cursed, gripping my hip hard enough to leave a bruise of his nails on my skin. "You're so tight. I-I can't last."

"Beebo, look at me." I cupped his face with my hands, noses brushing on each other. "Kiss me." Our mouths mold together, tongues sliding over desperately as muffled grunts escaped the both of us. And when it became unbearable for him, he pulled back and thrusted in me, hard, a few times before he came undone. The sight of him climaxing in me, all hot and sweaty, made my knees shake.

Then he pulled out of me, still making those involuntary whimpers and trembling from his orgasm. Somewhere along the line, he rolled off his condom before bending down and hollowing his flushed cheeks. I barely had any time to stop him when he took my cock in his mouth, bobbing his head and sucking hard until I came in him.

We were both reduced into hot, panting messes, collapsing weakly on the bed. I was still high from the climax and exhausted from the physical exertion of sex that I only had enough strength to turn onto my side to face him. He had an arm thrown carelessly over his eyes, hair messy over on his pillow and flushed skin glistening with a faint sheen of sweat. He looked so sexy that way. Happiness bubbled in me when he turned to look at me with a smile.

"That was amazing." He said breathlessly.

"Yea?" I giggled. "I thought so too."

His hand brushed over my cheek as a tender, loving expression crossed his features. "C'mere." He said softly, pulling the sheets over our bodies. I could only oblige, moving to curl up against him. His skin was hot to the touch but I was too giddy to care, feeling the thrum of happiness, when he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"Good night, Ryro." He said softly, voice thick with drowsiness.

I smiled, tracing patterns on his abdomen. "Good night, Beebo." I replied sleepily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also i once received a comment on wattpad saying how this is similar to this [livejournal user's](https://at-the-c-side.livejournal.com) nc-17 one-shot called ["Sixteen, Clumsy and Shy](https://at-the-c-side.livejournal.com/11363.html).
> 
> when i was writing this fic two years ago and was getting a lot of attention for it, i was a little fame-hungry and i didn't want to disappoint my readers. so i didnt think twice about plagiarizing. at that time, i told myself i was merely changing some parts so it wouldnt count. so when i received the comment (it wasnt even an outright accusation but merely an observation) i felt like i had been caught. i lied about having absolutely no idea of at-the-c-side's one shot and then deleted the comment shortly.
> 
> i have now learned my mistake and am ashamed by what i have done. however, i will not remove this part because i feel that it would be as though i refuse to acknowledge and learn from my past err.
> 
> so for the record, i give credit to at-the-c-side for their idea and apologize for copying off it.


	35. 33

There were four things I registered the next morning when I woke up. First was the headache that was pounding like a hammer banging away on my skull. The second was that the bed was way warmer than I would've preferred. The fact that the room was distinctly unrecognizable to mine was the third thing. Last one was the way every muscle in my body seemed to throb with a sore ache when I moved.

Groggily, I opened my eyes, squinting at the light streaming in through the curtains on my face. I groaned, turning onto my back when my arm bumped lightly against something that felt warm; I nearly jumped out of my skin. Realization dawned on me that I had not only slept in the nude there was also a body beside me. I bolted upright, eyes flying wide to stare down at the person, who was distinctly male.

His back was facing me so all I saw was bare skin, the messed up hair and bruises along his neck. I began to frown, trying so hard to recall what my drunken self had done last night and who this boy was, which made my head hurt even worse, when the alcohol-hazed memories flooded into my mind in flashes. The flashing lights bathing my friends in a strange glow, smoke in my face, the smell of sick in the toilet bowl but the images of a handsome face and the things he did to my body had the most clarity.

Confusion set in first, followed by disbelief and then shock at the realization that I had lost my virginity. It wasn't that I was horrified that I had sex, it was just the fact that it was, out of all people, Brendon I had slept with. My fist was caught in between my teeth to stifle a gasp that threatened to be loud enough to wake the brunet beside me. I stared at his sleeping form incomprehendingly, eyes wide.

My heart, which was racing faster than usual, tripped when he shifted onto his other side so he was facing me; he was still asleep. I swallowed past the lump in my throat, sitting up slowly. "How?" I whispered. Thankfully, he didn't reply.

Carefully, I slipped out of bed. I began to gather my clothes from the floor, making sure to skirt around the used condom that was lying on the floor from last night; I wrinkled my nose in disgust at it, remembering how he fast he had disposed of it after he came in me before sucking me off. I was in the process of wearing my pants when there was a bump against my toes when I tried putting it through the leg. I frowned, plunging my hand in the pocket and found my phone.

It was only then did I recall that I was supposed to stay over at Jon's the night before after the Halloween party. I bit my lip, thinking about how worried he probably had been when I had left the school early. As my phone was switched off, I had to turn it on. A stream of texts, seventeen of them, bombarded my notifications the moment my device was connected to the network. Three of the messages were from Ray, Patrick and Josh each but the rest were from Jon.

My throat dried up when I scrolled past my friends' texts to Jon's. From the looks of it, he was very worried about me. There was even a part where he said he'd call my mother for help if I didn't reply soon, which was the one sent at six-thirty in the morning. I checked the time: it was six-fifty-three now. Biting my lower lip, I began to type out an explanation for my absence when I stopped to stare at what I had just done.

As much as last night had been a whirlwind, I was certain that Jon didn't have to know  _exactly_  what I had done. Besides, he did like me and I didn't want to break his heart this way. Self-loathing bubbled within me as I deleted a huge chunk of what I wrote and replaced it with a simple "I'm fine, @ Brendon's," and hit the  _Send_  button. The message is read right away, which made me wonder if Jon had been waiting by his phone for my reply the whole night - the thought left a warm yet leaden feeling in my chest.

 _THANK GOD!!_  read his reply. He was typing but I shoved my phone down in my pocket before I could see what he wanted to say next so I could look for my shirt and my scarf.

I found them in an unceremonious pile on the desk and was putting it on when there was a faint buzzing sound. Freezing up, I peered around to see what was making it when I saw Brendon's phone lying just a few inches away from my hand, balancing precariously by the edge of the desk. I snatched it before it could fall off but as soon as I turned it over, I saw the screen illuminated with a picture of him and Dallom grinning and what I suspected was his best friend's number.

A bitter knot squeezed in my chest but subsided when the screen faded from the call menu to his lockscreen, which was just Hector the French bulldog looking up at me with soulful eyes. By now, curiosity was gnawing away at me when I saw how many calls and texts Dallon had left.

My pulse quickened as I glanced over my shoulder at Brendon, who was still fast asleep. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I turned my attention back to his phone and pressed the home button. Dammit, there was a passcode. Thinking he'd be obnoxious enough to put his birthdate, I typed it in.

Only to have it denied.

Briefly, I checked my phone for Dallon's Facebook profile for his birthday before inputting the numbers on Brendon's phone. I bit back frustration when access was denied again. Furtively, I looked back, exhaled in relief to find Brendon still asleep, and stared at the screen.

But what was the passcode??

In a desperate attempt, I entered my birthdate and was more than surprised to find the home screen welcoming me. My mouth went dry as I scrolled through Brendon's and Dallon's text conversations. At first they seemed innocent enough, talking about video games and sports when I found the naughty parts. Something in me shriveled up like a dying flower reading the recent messages. Disgust was crawling up my skin, as well as the feeling I now recognized as bitter jealousy, as I listened to Dallon's voicemails.

" _Hey_   _Bren, where are you? Spencer, Kenny and I are waiting for you at Joe's place for the after-party. Call me back soon_."

" _Bren_ _, you will not believe what just happened! Joe's letting everyone into his swimming pool and the place has just gone wild. Are you coming over?_ "

" _Brendon, you just missed seeing the big fight between Joe and Pete by the barbecue pit; you should've seen the way they blew up. Oh, there's more drinks here too. Get your_ _ass_ _over! I'm missing you so much_."

" _Bren_ _, are you even --_ "

"What do you think you're  _doing_?" A new voice demanded and I nearly dropped Brendon's phone in fright, whirling around to find the owner staring at me with a very stiff, white-faced expression on his features. My fingers pressed over where the phone's speakers were located in hopes of muffling the playing voicemails.

I kept my gaze on his white-hot glare, inwardly telling myself not to blink. "Nothing." I lied.

While it wasn't a sight I'd always be able to appreciate, him naked, the burning gaze he used scared the shit out of me. "What's that behind your back then?" He asked.

My heart was hammering on my throat as I hesitated. "Brendon, it's not --"

" _Ryan_." While his voice was deadly calm, I knew he was seconds away from blowing up.

I inhaled, squeezing my eyes shut before holding out my hand with his phone in it. I held my breath, hearing shuffling followed by footsteps approaching me. Then his phone was taken. "Look at me." I heard Brendon say and when I didn't obey, his voice raised in volume. " _Look at me!_ "

The gaze, which had been filled with tenderness the night before, was now alight with the fire of anger. I felt myself go rigid in fear all over when he held his phone up, waving it accusingly at me. "Did I give you the permission to touch my phone?"

"No, but --"

"Did I," He continued in the same trenchant tone, "say you could paw through my phone?" He demanded.

" _No_." I replied softly.

The look of sheer anger intensified to the point that I was certain he could shoot lasers into my already burning soul. He paused to see what I was nosing through and the vein at his temple throbbed. "Why were you going through my voicemails and texts with Dallon?"

As much as I could've given a snarky retort, I knew that by looking through his phone, I had breached through his privacy. Guilt was strangling me in its hold, making it difficult for me to speak. I wasn't even aware that I was shaking. "I'm sorry." I said softly.

His face turned red. "Go."

Slowly, I looked up at him with a mix of pleadingness and remorse. My voice broke. "Brendon, I'm really sorry --"

"For fuck's sake, GO!" He shouted.

I flinched, staring at him when my eyes began to sting. Nope, nope. I forced back the strangled feeling around my neck, dropped my gaze and walked away. Right before the door, I stopped. I wanted to say something but when I looked over my shoulder, all I could see was the tight set of his jaw, the furious gaze and the red flush over his skin. Ignoring the painful constriction in my chest, I left.

*

"Well, well, well." A female voice spoke when I passed the living room on my way to the front door. My stomach tightened as I doubled back to see who it was that had spoken.

There was a woman, perched at the armchair facing the hallway I was in, with a dog - Hector - sitting on her lap. While appearances could be deceinving, she looked no older than forty - although that could be because of her makeup. She had dark hair that was tied up in a bun on top of her head and was wearing a pair of tight leather pants and a red top that matched her lips. Her dark-eyed gaze regarded me thoughtfully before standing up. "Who are you?" She questioned in a silky voice

"Ryan." I answered and bit my lip. "I'm sorry I think I should go --"

"Did Brendon bring you back?" She asked, cocking her head as she passed by me, Hector trotting by her heels.

I nodded slowly. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding --"

"It's fine." She waved her hand dismissively before her nose wrinkled. "You stink of smoke and sex, you know that?"

My face began to burn and I found myself unable to look at her in the eye, dropping my gaze to the floor where Hector was sniffing my foot curiously. "It was a long night."

Her lips pursed thoughtfully. Then a gentle tone laced her next words. "Why don't you freshen up? You're welcome to use the shower downstairs to clean yourself up.."

"But --"

"It's totally fine." She waved her hand dismissively.

"What about ... Brendon?" I gave the stairs a nervous glance like I was afraid he might barrel down it and shout at me to leave.

"Never mind him." She smirked. "Knowing that boy, he takes at least an hour to get out of bed." There was a small affectionate gleam in her eyes when she spoke about him, which made me wonder.

"Wait. So, you're his Aunt Marie?"

"Oh please. Just call me Marie."

*

Even though I had already scrubbed my body with soap, I still felt like there were invisible traces of last night's sex lingering on my skin. Stepping out of the shower dripping wet, I wrapped a fluffy towel around my body and went right over to the mirror. There was a layer of condensation misting up the glass, obscuring my reflection so I had wipe away at it.

It was then when I noticed, with mixed feelings, that I had marks on my skin. Lovebites trailed from an inch below my earlobe to just above my collarbone. I took a step back and saw a few faint bruises on my hips where Brendon had gripped me too tightly. Had it been under different circumstances when we slept with each other I wouldn't be feeling embarrassed of these souvenirs on my skin.

Hurriedly as if the sight of these marks bothered me, I reached for the clothes hanging by the towel rack that Marie had given me. While I knew they were Brendon's clothes, she insisted that he really didn't mind if any of his shirts or pants went missing - which I found weird. It was only after I had tugged on the t-shirt that I realized with a jolt that it was my shirt.

The Anxiety! At the Club t-shirt I had lent him when spaghetti sauce had gotten on his. He must have forgotten to return it. There was a dull ache in my chest as I stared down at it. It didn't even smell like me anymore, it smelled like him. I wondered how many times he had worn it when he still had it. Shaking my head, I decided it was better if I didn't dwell on that matter, pulling on the shorts and picking up my dirty clothes before stepping out of the bathroom.

Marie was in the kitchen, leaning by the sink as she stared out of the window thoughtfully. My nose wrinkled with a familiar scent and I turned to see a candle on th counter. Vanilla. No wonder the house smelled of it and no wonder it stuck to Brendon. I turned to her just as she gestured at the small round table where a plate of toast and a mug of something hot sat. "Breakfast?" She asked.

I shook my head. "No thanks."

"I insist." Leaving me no choice I moved to sit at the table when she handed me a bag to put my dirty clothes in. Then as I dug in to the toast, she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at me again as though there was something she wanted to say. "Y'know, Ryan. I think I've seen you once or twice when you were little."

I nearly choked on my toast and quickly gulped the liquid from the mug - it was coffee - to cover up my surprise. "Really?"

"Oh yes. Brendon's friend from the kids' soccer team, right? He'd never stop talking about back then."

"Yea. I used to play." Involuntarily, I glanced down at my knee, seeing old surgery scars on my skin. My leg was aching, which was mostly likely caused from all the jumping I did last night. "But I had to stop."

"He said you two stopped talking when you were about eleven."

"It was complicated."

"I see." She nodded. "You're not the only boy he brought home."

The last piece of toast that was halfway to my mouth froze. Suddenly my mouth felt like it was filled with sawdust, even when I drank the coffee. "What?" My voice had shot up an octave.

She shrugged. "There was another one. Tall, blue eyes."

 _Dallon_. I thought with my stomach lurching with the sensation of nausea.

"One time he visited, last weekend I think, Brendon had trouble sitting down."

"Huh?" I stared at her incomprehendingly, my mind shifting. If he had difficulty sitting, didn't that mean ... he was fucked in the ass too? Somehow the whole fact that Brendon wasn't a virgin when we had sex and that he made me bottom caused a whole stirring of emotions in my chest. Suddenly, I felt angry, disappointed and incredulous.

Maybe it was silly but I had always wanted to have my first time with someone who had never done it before, so it wouldn't be so awkward for me. No wonder he was a bit good at it. And my butt hurt from him when he could've let me top to spare me from the pain of him penetrating. My hand, which was holding the toast began to shake so I had to put the bread down quickly.

Clearing my throat, I began to stand up. "Thanks Marie, for letting me eat but I really gotta go back." I said.

Her eyebrows arched in surprise but she said nothing as I greeted her my goodbye and hurried out of the kitchen. That was where I bumped into Brendon coming down the stairs.

Our eyes locked for a moment, his widening in surprise and mine turning away. I couldn't bear to look at him any longer. Hastily, I made for the door and left as quickly as I could without even realizing Brendon had been saying something to me.


	36. 34

Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I began to use the Map function to find the way back home. While Brendon didn't live too far away from my area, I was unfamiliar of this part of the neighborhood. I began to walk away from his house, determined not to give it so much as a backwards glance; I wasn't wanted there, anyway, and what was the point of looking over my shoulder to see if he would be watching from the windows?

Every step sent a fresh wave of ache up my bad leg, causing my slight limp to appear more pronounced than usual - the pain must've been a result of last night's jumping. I bit my lip and did my best to distract my mind from being bothered but that meant thinking and that lead to me remembering about my conversation with Marie. I was still pissed off that Brendon made me bottom during my first time, which hurt like hell, and wondered if he enjoyed doing that - hurting me - whether it was a conscious or unconscious effort.

I reflected back when we were younger and felt a tug of sadness and longing for those times. Things had been much less complicated before Brendon broke me at Dad's funeral. If he was trying to make it up to somehow in the present, it wasn't working. I was so distracted, I didn't hear the rumble of a car engine from behind me getting louder and louder. Then the car horn jarred me out of my reverie.

I frowned, glancing down long enough to know I was still on the sidewalk, and turned to see who it was.

"Hey, we've been looking for you all night!" The driver, a boy with wild, curling hair, poked his head right out of the open window, looking both worried and relieved.

I managed a grin, walking round the car. "Hey, Ray." I peered past the windows and saw Jon at the backseat; I waved at him but he only gave me a tight-lipped smile that made my chest constrict. "You didn't have to look for me." I told Ray, shaking my head. "I was fine the whole night." I cleared my throat.

"Don't look like it and don't sound like it. I'm guessing you've had the soda." Ray responded, shaking his head, before jabbing his thumb behind him. "Come on. Let's get you home." As my leg was still aching incessantly, I didn't pass up the chance and clambered into the backseat beside Jon. Ray told me my stuff - which I had placed in his car before the party because I was planning to stay over at hid place - was in the boot. An indie rock band was playing softly on the stereo while Ray hummed along, filling the brief absence of conversation.

I faced Jon. "Hey."

"Hi." He replied, fiddling with his bracelet without looking at me.

I bit my lip. "I'm sorry I worried you last night." I said contritely. "I didn't mean to disappear like that from the party."

"It's fine." His voice sounded awfully aloof. I felt apprehensive from hearing at his tone and was about to ask him what was wrong when he spoke, "So, Brendon Urie, huh?"

My heart gave a little skip in my chest. I swallowed past the sore lump in my throat, drawing my gaze away from his; his brown eyes seem to bore into me. I hadn't expected he'd find out so quickly although it does seem suspicious of how he mentioned Brendon. I cleared my throat. "What about him?"

"Well, I thought you didn't like him."

"Where is this conversation going to?" I asked warily.

He pointed at me when I remembered the hickeys Brendon gave me. Blood rushed into my cheeks as my hand flew up to my neck. "I was looking for you last night and I saw you leave in his car and I ... I just thought --" He broke off, turning red. And from his expression, I knew he had figured out where I went and what I did last night.

My mouth went dry. "Oh." I responded lamely. It was hard to look at him directly now.

"Is there something going on between the both of you?" He questioned. "Because if it's like an on-off thing I'll back off." He added.

" _What?_  No. I mean, I don't - No,  _nothing's_  going on between us." I said firmly thought a tiny part of me kept telling me that I was lying in some obscure way that I refused to acknowledge. Guilt began to percolate in my chest when I snuck a glance at Jon. He looked both conflicted and disappointed. "You don't need to back off. You're --"

Whatever I wanted to say stuck in my throat. I couldn't exactly call him a friend because we had passed that point recently till it was borderline dating and I couldn't call him my boyfriend either, seeing as I had slept with Brendon. I made an irritated noise at the back of my throat, pushing away the hair that fell across my face.

"It's fine." He said tightly. "You were drunk so it didn't really mean anything, right?" He regarded me, a dull glimmer of hope in his eyes.

But the problem was last night did mean something to me.

I didn't answer him.

*

I had honestly forgotten Ray was driving the whole ride back home. I was in the midst of contemplating myself when he pulled to a stop outside my house and had to call my name twice to tell me that we arrived. My cheeks burned at the thought that Ray had been listening in although if anything my best friend didn't show any indication of it.

But that wasn't what bothered me.

It was the way Jon acted. He didn't even talk at me after our 'conversation' or look in my direction. His aloof behavior, which was at odds with he usually acted, had left me wallowing in my own guilt. I was in my backyard now, rubbing Alfie's stomach but the current distraction did nothing to detract my thoughts away from Jon.

I felt conflicted now. I realized that some part of me didn't feel sorry for sleeping with Brendon but the other part wanted me to get up and convince Jon that Brendon wasn't relevant to me in any way. And it was so difficult because at this point, I wasn't sure what I wanted.

I hadn't went inside to change out of my clothes or anything so I was now covered in grass from the lawn. My dog sat up and sniffed my face before licking my cheek.

"Stop it, Alfie." I pushed his muzzle away but was smiling a little at his gesture. I wiped the back of my hand across my face. "I'm not crying."

Alfie stared at me, cocking his head and I could've sworn, as much as a dog could manage, that he didn't look convinced with my statement. He laid his head on my lap and shut his eyes when I heard a small noise. I looked to find my mother stepping out of the back door, holding a basket of laundry.

"Morning, Mom." I greeted, giving Alfie one last rub behind his ears before getting up.

"How was the party?" She asked, walking over to the clothesline.

"Fine, I guess." I mumbled. I moved to help her but she tutted and told me my hands were dirty when her eyes locked right on me, looking both surprised and incredulous. For a moment, I thought she was about to have a seizure when she pointed at my neck.

"What's that?" She demanded, frowning.

My hand flew up to cover the hickeys on my skin, even though it was useless to hide them at this point. "N-Nothing." I stammered, stiffening with the fear of being caught red-handed. "It's not --"

"Ryan." She began, setting the basket on the ground. "What did you do at Ray's house?" She asked. I had told her that my friends and I would be staying at Ray's after the party so she assumed.

I shook my head, backing a step. "Mom." I started but the look in her eyes made me stop. I sighed. "I didn't go to Ray's. I stayed at Brendon's."

The least she could give was a scolding for doing stuff that I shouldn't be doing at this age because I felt like it would've been a better reaction but instead, all she gave me was a bewildered expression. "Brendon??"

"Yea." I nodded. "The one with the big forehead and --"

"I  _know_  who he is." She sighed, appearing both surprised and pissed at me. "I thought you didn't talk to him anymore."

"Well yea, about that --"

"So you slept with him? Honestly did you even use a condom?" She demanded, suddenly going into full-on lecture mode. "You know how STDs these days are passed around and nobody's an exception --"

" _MOM!_ " I exclaimed, horrified. "Brendon used a condom and I'm pretty sure he's clean." My voice had gone all shrill and squeaky from embarrassment. "Oh my god, why am I even --"

" _George Ryan Ross the Third_." She said, cutting me off. I winced, knowing from that tone I was in big trouble. "Young man, go and clean yourself up and we'll be having a talk."

I bit back an irritated groan and did as I was told. Alfie followed me inside, loping along without a clue of what had just happened when the doorbell rang. I sighed exasperatedly and shouted at the front door, "Piss off!"

Alfie barked along with me, for what reason I didn't know, and darted towards the doorway. The ringing stopped and then I realized I had shouted at whoever it was. Feeling bad, I opened the door without looking at the peephole.

I wasn't even surprised to find Brendon behind it.

"What?" I snapped, scowling.

His expression was the same bad-tempered one as mine. His eyes burned into mine when he held up whatever he was in a robotic motion. "You left your dumb hat." He replied.

I took it from him. "Kay." I responded but still held his gaze. "Anything else you wanna yell at me before you go?" I asked, not too kindly. "Because you look like you want to bite my head off."

He seemed to wince, almost imperceptibly that I wondered if I had imagined it. His eyes flickered away from mine. "I don't want to bite your head off. I just want to punch you." He said though it sounded halfhearted.

"Then  _do it._ " I dared him, suddenly feeling a wave of self-loathing and anger. "Punch me in the face. I deserve it anyway. I'm a jerk." When he stared at me, I continued. "You agree, don't you?  _Tell me_. Because I have a feeling that I'm somehow playing your feelings. You think I don't know that you like me? Or why Dallon basically told me to stay away from you because he knows that I wouldn't care about how you feel."

"Do  _you_?" He shot back.

"I do  _and_  I don't." I answered and some part of me died inside. "I should be caring about Jon and spending more time with him because he makes me happy but then I think of you and how you make me  _feel_."

He was silent, staring at me with a million things behind those brown eyes. "And how do I make you feel?" He asked quietly.

"Like I'm on fire." I answered right away. "Like there isn't anything else in this world that can make me feel the way you do. And because of that, I only want more of it. But I can't because  --" I choked up. "I'm not good enough."

"But you're good enough for Jon?" He said flatly.

"I'm not good enough for you  _or_  him. I'm selfish." I said, swallowing past the painful lump in my throat. "I'm sorry, Brendon." I began to close the door when he jammed his foot, halting me from fully shutting it. "Kissing me won't make me feel better." I told him, staring at his shoe through a misty eyes.

"I should've listened to Dallon," was all he said before he moved his foot away.


	37. 35

To be honest, I was stuck in between dreading and looking forward for Monday because I'd be getting the chance to sort things out with Jon. While he should be on the top of my priority list, avoiding Brendon had also weaseled its way onto the beside it.

It would've helped if I had actually slept properly the night before but because of anxiety gnawing on me and thoughts chasing sleep away, I didn't get the healthy amount of rest. There were dark shadows under my eyes and I had skipped the eyeliner because of how it seemed to make the exhaustion more apparent.

Mom decided to drop me off to school so I managed to get a few winks before I arrived at school. As I entered the building, I kept glancing around the sea of indistinguishable faces in attempts to catch either Jon or Brendon.

I was putting my stuff in the locker when somebody tapped my shoulder. My stomach tightened in the briefest, hoping that I'd find who I was looking when I turned around, and my heart dropped. "Oh, hey Lynn."

Lynn gave me a bright smile, which was at odds with my current mood, and waved a little. "Haven't seen you around for some time now." She said, tugging on her backpack straps. "Thought I'd say hi." She added.

Despite how emotionally exhausted, her gesture was heartening enough to bring a small smile out of me. "Hey, Lynn. How's it going?" I asked, closing my locker once I got my books out.

"Well, I'm doing fine. School's a bitch but at least I still have my head and limbs attached, I guess it's not too bad." She responded and I laughed at how amusing her offhand answers were. "How about you?"

In an instant my mind flashed back to the last week's events and how everything spiraled in a straight line down and winced inwardly. "I'm managing." I bluffed, noting how tight my voice sounded.

Her eyes flickered but before I could read what it meant, she pressed her lips together into a thin white line. She appeared pensive. "Cool beans." She said, nodding but was still looking at me that way. "Well, if you need anything, we're having study hall the same time today - remember? - so yea ... I'll be at the library." She told me and began to swivel on her heel.

For a moment, weakness had seized me. I hadn't told anyone about the whole Jon-Brendon conflict and how I needed a totally unbiased opinion on what I should best do. I could've asked Patrick, as he seemed to be better at giving advice but lately it seemed that he had his own troubles to take care of so I kept my mouth shut. And I hated feeling so torn between choices so I didn't hesitate to call out her name. "Lynn?"

She turned around, eyebrows arched questioningly. "Yea?"

"See you at study hall."

And she gave me a thumbs-up before she melted into the crowd of students.

*

By normal standards, gym period was a nightmare but as I had to two boys I had feelings for on the same day at the same time the word didn't apply to it anymore.

I caught Jon by the lockers and my heart had leapt in my chest at the sight of him only to plummet when I saw him speaking to Spencer Smith. Now, I didn't usually have a problem seeing Jon talk to other boys but today was an exception. The way Spencer and Jon were chatting with the same ease Jon and I had made a bitter taste to rise at the back of my throat. Deciding that he probably didn't want to talk to me, i slunk off to the corner where my gym lockers were located.

Only Ray was there, tying his hair up so they wouldn't get into his face later. He was already dressed in the school's gym attire. Peering at me from the reflection of his mirror, he tutted almost disapprovingly. I honestly thought he was referring to the conversation I had with Jon the other day in his car and heat rose into my cheeks.

"Not a word." I warned him, tugging off my shirt. "Not a word about my fucked up love life or whatever the proper name is for it." My voice was so low, it almost sounded like I was growling.

He exhaled, shutting his locker. "I didn't say anything." He said, aggrieved. "I was referring to those." He pointed at my face. "Bags under your eyes. Are you alright?" He asked worriedly.

"If it makes you feel better, they're Louis Vutton." I responded rather sarcastically while I stifled a yawn. "And no, I only got three hours worth of sleep last night so I'm feeling peachy."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Does this have anything to do with you and Jon?"

"Possibly." I responded, wearing my gym uniform. Ray didn't answer me but from the prickling sensation between my shoulder blades, I guessed he was staring at me expectantly. With a sigh, I glanced over my shoulder to see if he was. Sure enough there my friend was, glaring at me like a disapproving mother with his arms crossed. "What?" I said, pushing back my hair from my face.

"I honestly don't know for sure what the situation is between you and Jon is and what it has anything to do with Brendon Urie." He raised his hands, shaking his head.

"It's best if you don't." I sighed, eyes squeezing shut like I could blot out reality and return to the dark, peaceful embrace of sleep. If anything, it didn't work and Ray's next words seemed to dig into me.

"You gotta sort it out and quit dogging around; it ain't fair for them."

*

Because I was loser and a jerk, I hadn't taken the opportunity to talk to Jon, even when he was pretty much on his own when we did laps around the field the whole time, or look in Brendon's direction, knowing that the sight of him and Dallon together would make me feel worse.

What Ray had told me earlier hurt but he was right; I couldn't do this to Jon or Brendon. Neither of them deserved it. Now I had wondered if Dallon had seen it in me all along, the inherent quality of selfishness I had.

One thing I learned today was that showers weren't all that great for drowning yourself. Hair still dripping wet, I stepped out of the stall I was occupying and headed for my gym locker. I didn't even have to take more than ten steps away only to see Brendon and Dallon with each other. The shorter of the two was in his underwear, laughing when Dallon lifted him, while Brendon announced cheerily, "To the bedroom!"

I couldn't help but feel like this was some sort of below-the-belt jab at me. I felt worse than I had been this morning, which was saying a lot.

There were voices from round the corner where my gym locker was located. "But Patrick, I thought --" The speaker broke off when I appeared; it was Pete. "Oh, hey Ryan."

I gave some sort of noncommittal noise at the back of my throat, took one glance at Patrick, and waved my hand dismissively like I couldn't be bothered if they chose to do whatever they pleased there. I began to put on my clothes while their conversation continued, a blur of inaudible string of sentences.

There was a mirror attached to my locker door. When my gaze caught my reflection, I couldn't help but cringe. Not only had I noticed how ugly and tired I looked with those dark shadows on my face but also because I saw something I shouldn't. Averting my eyes quickly away from the scene of Dallon and Brendon kissing up against the wall shamelessly, I pushed my locker shut with a bang and rushed out of the room.

The rest of the periods before study hall was a haze of indistinguishable lessons. Once English Literature with Mrs Oakley was over, I dragged myself over to the library.

Since I knew Lynn had a way of finding where I was, my mind went on autopilot when I found a spot in the quiet corner of the library. She came to sit at the table, across me, and said, "Okay. Spill. What's wrong?"

I began to explain the summarized version of my situation with Jon and Brendon. If I hadn't been so upset with myself, I'd probably shut up and keep it all to myself to spare myself from embarrassment. Lynn was a good listener, never stopping me in midsentence to pop out whatever was on her mind except when the librarian prowled by - she kicked me in the shin to shut me up so we wouldn't get in trouble.

"So, tell me I'm a jerk." I said, wincing as I rubbed my leg where she had kicked.

"Y'know, you're a dick." Lynn stated.

"Thanks." I responded sarcastically, ignoring how hurt I was from hearing her unexpected reply. "I'm glad you acknowledged that." Then sadness blanketed itself over my heart, squeezing it painfully. "I  _am_  a dick." The backs of my eyes began to sting.

She reached over, and I thought she was going to pat my head to make me feel better - which was a nice and useless gesture - but instead, she placed her hand atop my tightly clasped ones. This made me look up at her. "Ryan." She began in a soft tone. "Yes, you are a dick but let's be real; when has  _anyone_  not been a dick?" She asked in a rather philosophical manner. "We've all had our not-so-good moments and that's perfectly normal. We're only human."

"That's the thing." I sighed, raking my fingers through my hair. "I hate fucking things up and this time I think I've done just that, big time." She gave me a sympathetic look, an expression I had always hated seeing since the day my father passed away. I frowned. "Don't stare at me like that."

"Like what?"

"That." I pointed at her face. "It makes me feel like I'm some sort of pitiful, attention-seeking bastard."

"You're in a particularly self-complimentary mood today, aren't you." She commented but she wiped the sympathetic look off her features. "Look, Ryan. I know you're a good person who has done  _less_  good stuff but I think you should talk to them. Like, Jon, for example. You didn't tell him about how complicated things are between you and Brendon - not that you should use that as an  _excuse_  but it might help if he had an explanation for your behavior.

"And Brendon. He seems to be hung up about you, just saying. Just sort it out with him, like, tell him know that you can't really be with him now  _nicely_. I know it all sounds hard to do right now but it's best if you try. Don't wanna regret later, do you?" Lynn regarded me.

I looked up at her, pressing my lips together. She had a point and it was reasonable enough, anyway. "Y-Yea ..."

A small, encouraging smile began to form on her lips as she reached out and patted my shoulder. "You'll do fine, Ryan. I believe in you." While her little speech didn't necessarily make me feel any better, at least it gave me some direction of where I should head for now.


	38. 36

After Lynn's pep talk, I managed to plan it all out. I decided I'd talk to Jon first because of two reasons: one, we didn't have any complicated and problematic history, and two, I hadn't had the chance to return the costume I wore last Saturday to him.

With the outfit ironed out and neatly folded away in a bag, I was on my way out the door when Alfie hopped off the couch from the living room and loped towards me, looking excited. "Whoa, no. Alfie, I'm heading out - I can't bring you along to Jon's." I told the Alsatian as he whined and pawed my shorts.

I didn't know why I was telling my dog where I was going - it wasn't like Alfie could really understand why I was leaving or who Jon was - but he seemed really stubborn about it as he kept jumping on me to the point I nearly toppled over from his weight. "Okay,  _fine_. You can come with me." I sighed in exasperation.

Alfie's ears pricked up and he barked happily before moving aside to let me look for his leash. After putting the leash on, I led him outside before locking the front door. Then we set off.

Referring to the address that I managed to pester Patrick for, I walked all the way to Jon's house. Nervousness was making me overthink the possible situations that could happen when I saw him and by the time I arrived on Jon's street, my palms were sweating and I was feeling slightly nauseous.

Alfie sniffed the sidewalk and fire hydrants curiously, giving me a hard time to pull him away so he wouldn't take a piss or whatever. We reached his house, which apeared as much as a regular suburban home as mine was - perfectly mowed lawns and a warm, inviting exterior. The only thing that jarred the sight were the two boys sitting on the roof; they must've climbed out of one of the windows to get there.

My heart did this sort of painful skip in my chest when I recognized them. Jon was rubbing the side of his face, looking distressed, while Spencer spoke to him in a low assuring tone. The ringing in my ears prevented me from hearing what he was saying but the sight of them was enough to make a bitter taste to rise at the back of my throat. I pitched my voice loud enough to be heard: "Jon!"

The two boys broke off, giving a start, before peering down at me. It wasn't voluntary but I caught myself glaring at Spencer, who stared at me in bafflement.

Jon sighed and patted the blue-eyed boy's shoulder as he got up before dusting himself off. Fixing his gaze on me for longer than neccessary, he said, "I'll be downstairs. Wait for me." I could've focused on the positive because he didn't sound disappointed in me at all but instead I paid too much attention to how scratchy his voice sounded.

I looked down at Alfie and sighed. "You'll have to wait outside for a bit, okay boy?" It was pretty useless to tell him because he was staring at the fire hydrant across the street entreatingly. Approaching the door, I was raking my fingers through my hair nervously when the door opened. I nearly jumped out of my skin; a little girl about the age of seven stared up at me with large, inquisitive brown eyes, her dark hair tied up in pigtails. I assumed she was Joanne, Jon's little sister because there was something about her delicate features that reminded me of her brother.

She looked me up and down with an impressed expression before asking, "Are you Jon's boyfriend?"

My heart stopped. " _What?_ " I goggled at her in utter astonishment as blood rushed into my cheeks. "Wait, did Jon call me that?" I cleared my throat, embarrassed at how squeaky and high-pitched my voice sounded.

She giggled just as the sound of footsteps came from the stairs. "Why else would Jon talk so much about you to Dad? It's getting annoying, really--"

" _Joanne!_ " It was her brother appearing behind her, seeming flustered and embarrassed about what she had just told her before he scooped her into his arms, causing her to squeal and laugh. "That's not something you should say." He chided.

" _Ryan and Jon are sitting in a tree --_ " She began to sing teasingly while Jon exhaled in exasperation. "Ooh! Doggie!" She broke off in midsong, staring excitedly at Alfie.

"Yes, doggie." Jon responded and put his sister down so she could pet my dog. But before she did, she looked at me for permission; I gave her a dismissive wave and she rushed over to give Alfie a big hug. I noticed how the sides of Jon's eyes crinkle at his sister. "Joanne, why don't you ask Ryan if you could let Alfie play with Pumpkin?"

"Can I?" Joanne regarded me pleadingly.

I frowned at Jon. "Who's Pumpkin?" I questioned.

At the mention of the name, a fluffy dog appeared from in between Jon's legs and barked at Alfie. "This is Pumpkin." Jon answered, picking his dog up, which was nowhere near the color of an actual pumpkin, rather a shade of brown. "Where are my manners? Come on in." He said, remembering that I was still outside and moved aside so I could enter. Joanne went round the house to the back so Jon closed the door. In his arms, Jon's dog was staring at me with those beady black eyes, making me feel a little uncomfortable.

"What's Pumpkin's breed?" I asked, taking my shoes off.

"I have  _no idea_. I just know she's small, fluffy  _and_  cute. Joanne wanted her so badly and I guess that rubbed on me so we convinced Dad to get her. Here, wanna hold her?" He offered.

"Oh, I --" I stopped short when Jon placed Pumpkin in my arms. I held my breath in anticipation when the dog shifted in my arms before looking up at me curiously. The sight of her tugged my heartstrings and a small smile began to curve my lips. "Hey there, Pumpkin." At the sound of her name, her ears perked. "You're so adorable --" She began to lick my chin experimentally and earnrd a soft ticklish giggle from me. I had to lean away from her. "She's such a sweetheart."

Jon was grinning when he took Pumpkin back and set her on the floor. The dog shook herself out before bounding to the back of the house, probably joining Joanne and Alfie. Jon turned to me. "So." He began.

"So." I responded lamely.

" _La._ _Ti_ _. Do_." A new voice piped in, harmonizing. It was Spencer coming down the stairs with a lighthearted expression; he seemed to be in a good mood. I turned my gaze away to a family portrait at the doorway to stop myself from scowling at him. Spencer looked from me to Jon when he realized that we required some time alone to talk. He gave an awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his neck before pointing a thumb at the door. "Yea, it - it was nice hanging out with you, Jon. But, like, I have to go back home now. Bye." With one last nervous chuckle, he waved at the both of us before leaving.

I didn't dare to breathe until I heard the door shut. Suddenly, my mouth felt like it was filled with sawdust. I wasn't even aware there was the sound of blood thumping in my ears. "I --"

Jon's eyes traveled to my hands. "Ah, the costume." He said, picking up on what I had intended to say in the first place. "You came to return it?"

"Yes." I replied. "No. Not really. It's complicated." I bit my lip.

His brow furrowed in bafflement. "How is returning a costume complicated?"

"I didn't come here for  _just_  that." I sighed, raking my hand through my hair before giving him the bag. "Look, Jon. I came here to apologize." I told him, trying to catch his eye but he was preoccupied with the contents of the bag - whatever was so fascinating about neatly ironed and folded laundry, I had no idea.

"Apologize for doing such a great job at cleaning up the costume?" He frowned. "Wow, I think your laundry skills could make Dad's run for his money and he happens to be --"

I exhaled audibly, wanting to strangle something. " _Jon!_ "

He gave a start, whipping his head up to stare at me with shocked eyes.

"I came here to apologize for my shit behavior on Sunday." Once I was certain wouldn't babble about how my ironing could compare with his father's, I continued. "I'll begin from the top. Brendon and I had this complicated past back when we were kids and somehow, this year, it dragged itself back so you could say it's manifesting into this fucked up sexual tension thing --"

"Ryan --"

"Don't ask me how it happened; it just did and it started with a damn t-shirt - Oh god you have no idea how much I regret buying that thing right now. Anyway, it escalated to the point that we --"

" _Ryan!_ "

The words died away in my throat. If it hadn't been for the irritation and urgency in his tone, I would've ignored him and continued my explanation, which was getting worse the more I talked. I stared at him as he dropped the bag on the floor and closed the distance between us till only a few inches of air separated us. My heart gave a leap in my chest as he placed his hands on my shoulder.

"Calm the fuck down." He said. "I get it."

"You do?" I was really confused. It was like taking a confident step forward only to find that the space before you was the edge of a cliff and you were taking a tumble down it.

"I asked our friends - y'know, Ray, Josh and Patrick - and I sorta got the gist the whole thing. You and Brendon used to be friends and something bad happened so you two don't talk anymore. Then, some stuff happened and then the situation between you two just escalated to a much different kind of vibe. I don't blame you for getting mixed up in it - some things can't be avoided and that I understand. What I don't understand is why you choose to tell me now."

He didn't sound angry but more like he was disappointed in me, which was worse. He could've hit me in the face with a brick and that might've hurt less. I swallowed past the painful lump in my throat, averting my eyes from his. "I'm sorry. I was afraid you might think I'm using you as a distraction."

"Are you?"

I looked at him. His gaze was steady, making it so hard not to feel like I was guilty of the world's biggest sin. "I'm not. I'm really not. But if it looks that way, then I'm so sorry, Jon."

He stared at me. It was one of the longest moments of my life having to hear his silence. His features were impassive.

"Can you say something now?"

"You're a big dork, Ryan." He said, crossing his arms. "And you could've told me  _sooner_  about that situation between you and Brendon."

"I know."

He scowled, narrowing his eyes. Then he raised his hand and made a finger gun before putting it to my chest. "Bang. Feel the bullet penetrate you." He said tonelessly.

"Dude!" I exclaimed and pushed his hand away. "I made a whole fucking speech in my head on how to apologize to you. Not that I'm complaining but I thought you'd be mad at me and not give me like an understanding talk about how you don't blame me for borderline cheating on you --"

"It's not cheating if we're not dating." Jon pointed out.

"You're supposed to be angry! At me!" I threw my hands up.

"Why would I be?" He stared at me in bewilderment. "If you mean hurt, then yes I was at first, but then we aren't dating exclusively  _yet_  so Brendon's fair game to you."

"Why are you even taking this so  _coolly_??" I demanded. "I can't  _believe_  you, Jon. Say something insulting to me." I crossed my arms, glaring at him.

"You're such a masochist." He snickered. "Okay, fine. You're a big and stinky poophead. Happy?" He sighed and shook his head before pulling me into a hug. I stiffened, wanting to push him away when he patted my head. "There, there, Ryan. I see the bullet has penetrated the guilt part of your heart."

"Can you not use the p-word too?"

"Penis?"

" _Penetrate_. It sounds --"

"Like the butt sex."

" _Jon!_ " I exclaimed, squirming out of his embrace. and he broke into a fit of laughter. Relief had washed over me, taking away the anxiety that had been weighing down on my lungs. "Okay but ... what about Spencer?"

He frowned, confused. "Wait. Don't tell me Spencer's part of your complicated thing with Brendon --"

"No. What ..." I trailed off, trying to say something that didn't make me sound petty and jealous. "Is he your -?"

"What? Cousin. Yea." He was looking at me funny as though he was attempting to decipher my question. "He was helping me for Biology."

I exhaled, shutting my eyes. Now I was feeling less of an emotional mess than I had been earlier. The weight had been partially lifted off my shoulders, allowing me to relax for a bit. Now the only thing next was to talk to Brendon but being here with Jon, I guess he could wait for a bit.


	39. 37

"You okay there, honey?" My mother glanced over at me from the steering wheel with a look of worry. "Do you need anything?"

I turned my attention away from rubbing my left knee with my thumb anxiously, looking up at her as I managed a smile that I hoped didn't appear forced. "Just ... nervous." I said. It wasn't necessarily a lie though it wasn't really the truth either. The pinched sensation at the pit of my stomach refused to leave and was stirring up the uncomfortable feeling of too many emotions related to restlessness and anxiety.

Choosing not to meet her concerned gaze, I stared out the window at the passing buildings as we drove, allowing my mind to drift off. Jazz music was playing softly in the background on the stereo and while I did like the melody and rhythm it couldn't fully distract me from my buzzing thoughts. My fingers were fiddling with the rubber bracelet of the band  _Maine Street_  on my wrist as if of their own accord.

I grew more and more nervous right until we passed the church and I saw the walls bordering the local cemetery. I could feel my pulse drumming in my throat as my mother parked the car and turned off the ignition. As soon as I open the door, the cold hits me. Although it wasn't snowing enough to completely blanket the world in white, the temperature was definitely low enough to allow my breath to vaporize into tiny clouds in the air.

I shivered involuntarily, despite how I was bundled up in warm clothing and shut the door. Hugging my arms around my body so I'd stop shaking, I stared at the wrought iron gates; they always seemed to so forbidding to me. After all, this was the place that had associations to my worst memories. Swallowing past the painful lump in my throat, I closed my eyes and reminded myself that I was here to pay my respects to my father and wish him a happy birthday - even though he was dead and buried six feet under the ground, he deserved a proper greeting and a sign that my mother and I hadn't forgotten about him.

I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and trudged after my mother. Not a lot of people were inclined to visit this early although that could be because of the weather which was welcoming the arrival of winter. The caretakers of the place simply glanced at us as we passed by them on our way to my father's plot.

My memory of what his gravestone looked like was fuzzy but as soon as we walked down the path that had a stone angel on our left I remembered the number of steps that would lead me right to where my father was buried.

My mother's face was a mask of solemnity and suppressed sadness as she spoke a few words about how her and I came to visit Dad's grave on his birthday. I recalled how my first few years of keeping this tradition only caused me to break down into tears but now I was doing a pretty good job at keeping my emotions in check. I mean, I did miss my father a lot but I guess it was acceptance and time that helped out a lot.

The only thing that I hadn't learned to tolerate was the spot under the tree where Brendon severed the ties between us and shattered my already broken heart; I could never stop staring at it. My chest constricted with a dull ache as I tore my gaze away from in, images that memory flashing behind my vision.

My mother had set a bouquet of flowers - the kind my parents got for every anniversary - in front of the gravestone. She turned to me, wiping her cheeks as she reached out to stroke my hair. "I'll be in the car if you need me." She told me.

I nodded, giving her a tight hug as I ignored the painful squeeze of my heart. Once she had shrunken out of sight on her way back to the car, I stared at the gravestone. Flakes were visible in the air, small white particles of snow falling gently.

The spaces in the etchings of my father's name on stone seemed to blur out of focus as my mind drifted. "Dad?" I said softly, even though I was certain he wouldn't hear me. The backs of my eyes were stinging but I was vaguely aware of the sensation of warm moist streaks traveling slowly down my cheeks.

I sniffed, rubbing my nose before scrubbing my face with the back of my hand. Unable to bear how close I was to crying, I swiveled on my heel and marched away from his grave. All of a sudden, I couldn't bear the thought that my father was gone for almost seven years and the fact that he couldn't be there for me was lunging out at me from the dark recesses of my mind.

I had almost forgotten that I was planning to leave a drawing I did of my father at his grave as his birthday present and was reminded of it when I pushed my cold hands into my pocket; there was the sound of paper crinkling. I stopped short, pulling the neatly folded paper out my coat. Not wanting to leave without putting the drawing at his grave, I walked back quickly.

I didn't expect to see anyone else at my father's grave that day but the universe seemed to have plonked Brendon right at the spot where I had been standing staring at Dad's gravestone. Shock made my pace came to an abrupt stop, causing a noise as my boots crunched on the ground. My heart leapt at the sight of the brunet, stopping long enough for me to feel like my breath had been knocked out of my body. "B-Brendon?" Even if my voice was barely audible, he turned his head at the sound of his name.

He didn't even appear startled, or guilty, when he faced me. In fact, his expression was impassive. "Ryan." He replied, by way of greeting.

A small frown began to crease my brow as I approached him, my hand clutching tightly at the drawing in my hand. "What are you doing here?" I demanded, bewildered.

Now that I was closer to him, I could make out how flushed his cheeks looked. Small puffs of vaporized air escaped from his parted lips as he shook his head. "In a biblical sense?"

"Why are you here at  _George's grave_?" I said, rephrasing my question. Perhaps it was due to the fact that Brendon and I were standing too close to the very same spot where he cut me off that sparked a sudden bloom of annoyance at the sight of him in my chest.

Brendon's gaze drifted to the ground, silent in contemplation for what felt like eternity when it was really just five seconds when he faced me. There were snowflakes on him, white contrasting against his dark hair and his long black coat. For some reason, he looked beautiful, what with those large expressive brown eyes, flushed cheeks and parted lips. "Same reason as you." He told me. "I wanted to pay my respects to Mr Ross."

"Oh."

"Yea." A small thoughtful frown appeared on his features. He pointed and it took me a few moments to realize that he was pointing at the drawing I was supposed to place on my father's grave. "What's that?" He asked.

I held it up, unfolding it before I moved past him to set it on the grass underneath the Hershey bar to keep the paper from blowing away in the wind. "It's just something I did for Dad's birthday."

"Really?"

I nodded. "Thought he might like to see how I was progressing." I responded. Even though I couldn't really remember what my father sounded like without the help of old family videos, I remembered his words of encouragement when I first showed interest in art. This hit a little too close to home and I felt tears threatening to roll down my face once more. Sniffing as I stood up, I wiped my cheeks.

"Hey. Ryan. C'mere." When I saw Brendon opening his arms, I hesitated at the last moment. A small nagging voice at the back of my head kept telling me to stop but there was no way I could turn down the false sense of security in his embrace. But without even pausing like I did, he was already holding me the moment I was within the range of him.

My face was buried in his shoulder while his hands were stroking my hair. There was something intimate but comforting about the gesture and this time, I didn't even stop to consider when my arms tightened around him. He didn't appear to have minded that I was almost crushing him into me as if I could somehow meld our bodies together; I didn't deserve this. And neither did he deserve to have me lead him on.

"I'm sorry." I said, sounding choked to my own ears as I drew back. "I shouldn't be doing this to you."

"No." The firmness in his voice made me stop so now our noses were inches away from each other when he faced me. The look on his face was marked of grave solemnity. "Ryan, it should be  _me_  apologizing to you."

"But --"

"No.  _Listen_." He requested. "I never took the opportunity to say it to you because I was selfish and impulsive.  _I'm sorry_."

I stared at him incomprehensibly bewildered. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

He sighed, sounding exasperated, when he threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "If it weren't for  _me_ , you wouldn't be hating me." He said bitterly. "I wouldn't be here seeking for forgiveness from your father for hurting you at his funeral. I wouldn't be feeling sick to my stomach every day. I wouldn't be pining for someone I can't have instead of focusing on someone I can. It's all because of me.

"This probably isn't the best time for me to be saying this but I want to get it off my chest because I can't bear to keep it inside me anymore. I said those thoughtless stuff to you and did all those stupid things so I could get your attention on me. I wanted that so that I'd have an excuse to talk to you, even if we'd end up fighting. But because I was so caught up with trying to get to you, I forgot my original purpose, and that's making things better between us.

"I guess it's because I'm weak when it comes to you. You'll say I'm messed up in the head but the reason why I'm here today is because I wanted to apologize, for real, for hurting you on George's funeral. Basically, I did a little - well,  _a lot of_  - stalking and managed to find out that you visit your father's grave on his birthday and his death anniversary, plus during Christmas. And I wanted it to be here when I apologize because this was where it all started and I want it to  _end_  here.

"So here's my apology: I'm sorry for being such a crass and ignorant idiot. I cannot even begin to tell you how guilty I am for breaking you when you needed my shoulder to cry on most. It was cruel and insensitive for me and I guess the price I pay for my selfishness is suffering the pain of unrequited love. Somewhere, I dunno, along the way after we split I realized how much you meant to me. But I can never have you for what I've done and neither would you want me. Except maybe when we're kissing but I can never experience the type of love I long for with you."

Brendon paused to draw a shaky breath, oblivious to the way I was staring at him now but even if he wasn't looking at me, his words hit me hard enough that it hurt. It shouldn't have, right? I mean, I didn't care for him that way so why was I feeling like he had torn my heart out of my chest? His eyes flickered up to mine past his lashes.

"Anyway, you weren't supposed to hear what I have to say about my own selfish feelings so I'll stop here, with my apology in the air." His features wore a mix of so many emotions that I could barely read them all. A sad smile curled the corner of his lips that it caused the dull twinges to tighten under my ribcage. "Bye, Ryan."


	40. 38

Even though it was only a day since running into Brendon at the cemetery, the sick sense of worry that wrung my innards out repeatedly like a soggy rag that refused to dry had taken up residence in the pit of my stomach.

I probably shouldn't be caring too much about it since Brendon had a flair for being dramatic at times but instead I did. As I didn't have his phone number saved on my phone and I didn't want to give my friends the wrong idea by asking them so I couldn't check on Brendon. Sneaking out of my house had been my option but it was unrealistic and would probably cost me a lot of trouble. Fortunately, school started the day after my father's birthday so I didn't waste any time that morning to get ready.

"You're up early." My mother remarked when she saw me shoveling bits of toast in my mouth and knocking back the last dregs of coffee at breakfast.

"Yea." I let out a nervous laugh, getting up from the table to put my plate and mug at the sink. "Um, I've got, like, something to do at school so I have to be there a bit earlier than usual." I informed her as I picked my bag up from the counter. Giving Alfie an affectionate rub behind his ear, I reached for my keys and left the house.

Once I reached school, I practically ran up the steps of the building and nearly plowed into a couple of juniors in my haste. After dumping my things in my locker, I went to ask the admin for Brendon's homeroom under the excuse that I'd forgotten to return something to him. The receptionist was skeptical but after some amount of reasoning, she gave in. Now that I knew where his homeroom was located, I rushed out of the admin office.

Much to my mild annoyance of going through all the bother, I found him in the hallway on the second floor of the classroom block. It came as no shock that he wasn't alone. Dallon was standing beside him however instead of the two of them just being together, this time there was a girl in front of them whom I recognized as the student president, Sarah Orzechowski. Her blue eyes were pinched into an admonishing frown as she chided the both of them while writing something down in a notepad. Both Brendon and Dallon said something in reply but she shook her head and frowned even more.

I didn't have to be near to them to know that she was telling them off for their clothes.

"Look, it's my job to straighten out any rule-flouters in school and your ripped jeans and flip-flops are a no-no for the school dress code." Sarah said, pointing at his and Dallon's legs.

"You can't straighten me." Brendon responded incredulously.

She scowled. "You do know I have to take away one more point from your already negative merit system and you don't want an extra hour at detention, do you?" She retorted, patience visibly wearing thin.

"No, really, you can't straighten me because I'm gay." Brendon said blatantly, earning an amused snicker for Dallon beside him. He grinned.

"What the fuck." She sighed in exasperation and hit him in the arm with the notepad. "Alright now get your asses out to class. I have hallway patrol." With that, she flounced off.

I took her leave as my opportunity to call Brendon's name. I started forward, heart leaping in my chest. "Brendon!"

The two boys turned around. Brendon looked confused at first, disoriented by the number of students walking around us when his gaze crossed mine. His expression morphed from disbelief to shock then what looked like embarrassment. Dallon, on the other hand, scowled at the sight of me.

Brendon turned away when I made it within a few feet nearer to him as if he couldn't bear to look at me. My chest constricted in response. "Brendon --"

"He doesn't want to talk to you." Dallon seemed to tense up when I got closer, his blue eyes narrowing disapprovingly. "So  _piss_ _off_."

"Let him speak for himself!" I snapped at the taller boy, not bothering to keep the annoyance and resentment towards him out of my tone. I looked at Brendon, who was avoiding my gaze. "I want to talk to you." I said, hearing my voice quaver at the end of my sentence with concern.

"There's nothing to talk about." He shook his head, still not looking at me. "Look, I've got classes to get to --"

"But --"

"Bye." Cutting me off with that curt response, he swiveled on his heel and left without any more words. I stared after him, dumbfounded by the sudden shift of his behavior towards me. I shouldn't be surprised but to have him act like this right after he poured his feelings out to me the other day was like getting slapped in the face. It was painful and unexpected.

I was barely even aware of Dallon giving me a smug grin saying, "Told you so," in a condescending tone and following after him.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I drew in a deep breath and tried to come up with a reasonable explanation before I stopped myself. Anger blossomed in my chest, making my veins burn. My hands balled into fists.

There was no point in defending him or making up excuses to validate his actions. I bet he said and did all those stuff just so he could lead me on and play my feelings. The thought of him doing so left the bitter taste of bile at the back of my throat. It was possible and I was certain that notion was plausible. Exhaling frustratedly, I spun on my heel and stormed in the opposite direction where Brendon left.

*

"It's going to be rad!" Lynn protested immediately after I turned down her invitation to attend the school play she was acting in. "Besides, I have two tickets for the show, completely free of charge except that all I ask from you is around an hour of your time."

"I have a date night," was my excuse, although it was partly true, if you counted having Jon over to help you out on homework. "So I'm not sure if I can --"

"Perfect!" She clasped her hands, grinning the smile that made her gray eyes glint in a lively manner. "It's a romantic play!" She whispered conspiratorially, glancing around the the library before giving me a wink.

"Kill me if you're gonna say it's Romeo and Juliet." I sighed, resting my forehead on my open Physics textbook. "And finish off your Calculus homework. I'm not giving you an hour of my life for you to persuade me to go to your play."

"I'd chop off my foot if it was R and J." She scoffed incredulously, shaking her head to show how much she disliked that play. "But no, we're doing something  _better_  than that. Please, Ryan? I need your unwavering support from the audience." She pleaded with a puppy-dog expression.

"Lynn." I began and then broke off when I saw a familiar figure disappear round the corner of the tall bookshelves from the corner of my eye. With a frown, I stood up and gave some sort of vague gesture to Lynn to wait while I went to look for that person. I hardly heard her hiss something in protest as I walked over to the bookshelves. My heart leapt before clenching when I saw him.

"Brendon." I said, taking a cautious step forward.

He was perusing a book with an intense frown of concentration when he glanced up at me. His eyes widened fractionally but otherwise his tense composure indicated that he hadn't been looking forward to bumping into me here. With a sigh, he set the book back in its place and pressed his lips into a thin, disapproving line, leaning against the shelf. He remained silent for what felt like the longest time before speaking, "What is it?"

I scoffed disbelievingly, crossing my arms. "Is that all you can say  _to me_?" I demanded, hissing under my breath when the librarian passed us by. The dull ache in my chest knotted. "After what happened at the cemetery?"

His eyes blazed. "Well, what did you want me to say?" He shot back, spots of red coloring his cheeks.

" _Something_  --" I gesticulated but it was mostly for expressing my frustration rather than to elaborate my point. "Look, I was so worried about you --"

"Why would you be worried about me?" His tone was bitter but there was something else beneath it - hurt, perhaps? Or wistfulness? Whatever it was, it made everything in me ache for him in that moment.

"Because," my voice began to shake, not just from the effort of keeping it low enough to avoid earn a complaint from the librarian but also from the emotions choking me up inside. "As much as I don't want to accept it sometimes, I  _care_  about you. There's so many reasons why I should stop it but I can't and I don't know why." I broke off, pressing my hands against my eyes in frustration.

But even if I wasn't looking at him now, I could see his expression. The wide incredulous but hopeful eyes, lips parted in disbelief and the slight flush in his cheeks. I removed my hands and regarded him now. "I was so worried that you might do something stupid to yourself." I said finally, getting to what I wanted to tell him in the first place.

There was a sad look in his eyes. "What am I to you?"

My eyes widened at his question. There was a painful skip in my chest, catching my breath in my throat. "Brendon --" I broke off upon realizing that he was serious about his question. I let out a sigh, pushing back my hair from my face impatiently. They were getting long enough to curl at the ends and get into my eyes. With my pulse pounding at my throat, I took a step closer to him. There was fleeting look of surprise on his face when I put my arms around him and pulled him in close.

I wasn't aware of my own body trembling until he held me, hesitantly placing his hands on my hips first before he pressed his face into the crook of my neck.

"You mean enough to me to be afraid the thought of a world without you." I said softly against his ear, running my fingers through his hair. The scent of him was invading my senses, urging me to continue talking. "I do love you, Brendon, as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise."

He stiffened in surprise against me before drawing back to face me. His eyes were wide when he regarded me, looking both hopeful and relieved. "You do?" He whispered, sounding breathless.

I nodded slowly, pushing back a stray strand of hair that fell across his forehead almost absentmindedly. All I could hear in my ears was the sound of my aching heart beating. "I love you enough to tell you this: you deserve better than me. It's not because of our past or anything. I'm afraid I might hurt you in the process without meaning to and I don't want to do that to you. You deserve happiness."

"But what if you're, in a weird way,  _my_  happiness?" His voice was heartbroken.

"Then I guess by letting go, we won't lose each other like we did years ago." I answered. My mind began flashing back the memories I shared with Brendon and felt a bittersweet stirring in my chest. It was a lie if I said letting Brendon go was easy for me; the decision was slowly bleeding me out. His eyes flitted away but from the slight trembling of his lower lip which he tried to conceal by biting, I knew that while the both of us had come to the unanimous decision we were both going to have difficulties in upholding it.

And because of that, I really wasn't thinking at that point when my hands moved to cup his face and I leaned in to press my lips to his. His arms went around me, almost crushing my body into him as if he could meld us into a single person. I could feel his hand slide to the small of my back, brushing the sliver of exposed skin between the hem of my t-shirt and the waistband of my jeans while I tangled my fingers in his hair. My heart was slamming against my chest so hard that I was certain that by being in this proximity with Brendon's body, he'd be able to feel it too.

A soft gasp escaped him when I pushed him gently up against the bookshelf as I drew back by the slightest to whisper his name before attaching my mouth to his jaw. He groaned huskily, allowing his hand to slip below my waist as I trailed kisses down his neck. Even if I couldn't see him, I could sense him smirking as he stroked my hair in an almost contented manner as I sucked the skin just above the collarbone gently.

*

Mrs Roberts regarded the both of us with a mildly exasperated look over the frames of her reading glasses. Her silence that greeted us when we entered her office was giving me a case of anxiety and the fact that she was staring at us like that was making me sweat like crazy.

Sitting beside me was Brendon, who seemed unconcerned about the headmistress and was more interested in the dipping bird on her table. It was only when she sighed did he speak. "According to the student handbook provided by the school, the inappropriate behavior rule applies to boy-girl --"

I bit back an annoyed groan while Mrs Roberts held up a hand and removed her glasses. "Mr Urie and Mr Ross, I was informed by the librarian for inappropriate behavior  --"

"Between us, who are, coincidentally, two boys  _but_  the rule doesn't apply to us." Brendon said, making me wish he'd shut his mouth instead. He turned to me and elbowed. "Tell her, Ryan." He urged, to which I gave him a look of horror and disbelief.

"Look, I don't want to be in deeper trouble." I told him and he appeared incredulous with my response before rolling his eyes irritably and crossing his arms. Mrs Roberts then launched into a speech about how we should be mindful of our behavior and obey rules and regulations - even if they had loopholes.

The dipping bird was starting to become more interesting.

At one point, Mrs Roberts had to stop her lecture to answer a call and gratifying silence ensued upon us. Taking this opportunity, I cut a sideways glance to Brendon and became aware of the nervous way he was drumming on his knee with his index finger. My lips curved slightly at the sides upon noticing this tiny habit of his that I was once familiar with.

My hand reached out to hold his and the small smile on his face made my heart skip.


	41. epilogue

"How do I look?" I asked my mother when I stood by the stairs, not because I wanted to bolt for my room in case she wanted to take a photo of me but because I had one more thing to do before leaving the house. The collar of my dress shirt felt a little tight and I was worried that was a result of my lack of experience of tying a necktie properly.

My mother beamed at me, looking like she was about to tear up. "Honey, you look handsome."

" _Mom_." Even though there wasn't anyone else in the house and I had no reason to feel embarrassed, my cheeks heated on their own accord at her compliment. Her hands moved to readjust my necktie and it became easier to breathe. "Thanks, Mom." I smiled at her. "I'm nervous, though." I admitted, biting my lower lip, while she reached into her pocket to retrieve her phone.

"Don't worry, dear. You'll be alright." She assured as she tried to pat down a cowlick on my head. "Besides, you should enjoy the night with your friends. You don't know when will be the next time you see them." She added and took a step back to look me up and down.

I gave a slight nod of agreement and shrugged as she held up her phone to take a picture of me to gush on to her colleagues about how her little boy was grown up and had attended senior prom with his boyfriend whom she adored or somewhere along the lines of that. She gave me a thumbs up once she was satisfied with the shots and squeezed me into a hug.

From where we stood, I could see our reflection in the hallway mirror. I recalled seeing a couple of other people from my school getting their suits done in time for prom and they had pretty much gone all out on their fineries. My suit, however, was simple and was a lovely and uniform shade of black. I'd never seen the cloth come in such a dark shade and I loved it the moment I saw it. Of course, it did make me seem like I was on my way to a funeral but I liked the elegant touch it gave me.

Of course, my mother asked me when I'd be home and reminded me to call her in case anything happened and that if I planned to do anything tonight, I should exercise caution - I knew she suspected that I might be getting laid tonight - before she let me off. Giving Alfie a rub behind his ear, I left the house.

The drive to his house made me very nervous that not even my playlist could drown out the little pieces of anxiety popping up in my head and giving me unnecessary worry. By the time I reached his driveway, my palms were clammy. Making sure to dry them off, I got out of my car and approached the door. My throat was really dry and I was fairly certain I looked a bit sweaty. Without pausing to draw a breath as I'd use that as an excuse to hesitate, I rang the doorbell just as door opened.

Reflexively a smile is plastered on my face as I regarded the person facing me. "Good evening, Mr Walker." I greeted Jon's father, completely forgetting that he had insisted me on calling him Jesse on the number of occasions we had seen each other. He didn't bother to correct me but instead greeted me with a warm grin and moved aside to allow me to enter.

"Come on in, Ryan. Jon's still getting ready upstairs." He told me as we passed through the entryway to the living room where he made me sit and wait. Pumpkin's ears perked up at the sight of me and bounded over, barking excitedly as she ran in circles around my feet. I laughed, bending down to pick her up when I heard a soft gasp. I raised my head to see Joanne bouncing on the balls of her feet with a huge smile on her face.

"You're here!" She exclaimed.

"Yep." I nodded as I carried Pumpkin. "Is Jon --"

"I'm gonna go get him." She informed me before dashing up the stairs, nearly running into her father who was entering the living room. Mr Walker gave her an amused look before he faced me, taking a seat on the armchair across the couch I sat on. We struck up small talk when Jon appeared in the room, looking just as nervous as I was. My heart skipped and raced at the sight of him and I almost forgot that I was in the middle of a conversation with his father.

Like me, he was also dressed in black but the only difference between us was that he looked more like he'd fit into a wedding band instead a funeral march like I was. Nevertheless, he looked perfect. We posed for a few pictures - what was with parents and taking photographs on prom night? - before we left the house. As we got into my car, Jon gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "I can't actually believe I'm going to prom with a cute guy."

I felt my cheeks burn but I managed to respond properly. "Well, take a look at me now and pinch to see if this is all real."

He rolled his eyes at me but smirked in amusement. "Dork." He mumbled and leaned over to give me a kiss.

*

It took us a bit longer than usual to reach school as we took a detour but by the time we reached there, it seemed that we weren't late for the party after all. Even though we were kinda early, the hallway that led up to the multipurpose hall were already littered with confetti and balloons, an obvious way of showing off how much fun everybody would have at prom. About half the students from our year were already occupying the space, spread over the makeshift dance floor in front of the stage and designated area for the tables.

The teachers chaperoning for the night took one look at our tickets before waving us in with reminders to behave ourselves before we set off to find the tables we were assigned to sit at. No one would, of course, follow that but Jon was adamant that we should at least try to socialize with the people at our table, using the argument that "it's our last year and we should talk to them." At any rate, as we made our way over, Jon got distracted by the buffet table.

"Hey, I thought we're going to socialize." I laughed at him.

"Food is more important." He replied. "Besides, it looks delicious."

Insisting he'd be fine on his own, I took a seat at the assigned table. I was relieved to find people I was familiar with like Kellin and Katelynne Lahmann, Hayley and Taylor York. Jon returned to the table afterwards, looking satisfied. He joined in our conversation seamlessly and soon we were all getting along like old friends.

"I'm gonna get something to drink." I told Jon not long after before getting up. The place was already getting crowded and the atmosphere was filled with excited chattering and. Ambient music was playing, giving a relaxed feel. While I took a drink of water - I didn't trust the fruit punch anymore - I managed to catch up with my friends. Josh and Tyler didn't bother skipping the matching thing, both dressed in red, while Ray was wearing a simple black suit with a red tie and Patrick looked good in that blue outfit.

We were having a conversation when my eyes got distracted by a flash of movement at a gap in crowd at the dance floor. I frowned, turning my head in the direction of it, and there was a twinge in my chest. Excusing myself from my friends, I wandered over, trying to peer over the heads when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped at the contact, stomach tightening before it relaxed.

Brendon smiled at me, the mirth in his eyes making them gleam. "Relax. It's just me."

Even if we were on considerably better terms now and could call each other friends, the sight of him still made my chest contract a little. I gave a smile, shrugging. "Sorry, you just startled me for a moment."

"Okay."

I took in his appearance, noting it with amusement. He would've fit in the crowd had it not been for his shimmering gold suit jacket that came with black lapels. He grinned at me. "All black, huh?" He said, gesturing at my outfit.

"At least I look good." I replied.

"You sure do." He nodded and a small warm rush is felt throughout my body at his compliment.

"That's a nice jacket. It makes you stand out a lot."

"Thanks." He glanced down at himself. "It actually feels a bit hot wearing it but at least I sparkle." He added with a laugh.

I snickered, shaking my head at his comment. Even if we did lapse in a brief silence, we didn't make any excuses to leave or whatever. The people around us were starting to gather and the music had changed from the ambient soundtrack to a pop song that was dance-able. Fortunately, we were near the side where we could make an escape if we wanted to but somewhere along the line the music was changed abruptly.

I frowned in confusion and so did Brendon. Then I recognized the song just as the DJ announced over the microphone. "Just gonna slow things down for a bit so here's The Slayers with All These Things I've Done." They said before there was a sharp noise of feedback from the speakers. I turned to face Brendon who was shaking his head.

"I can't say I'm surprised." He said.

"Why?"

"They play this every year at seniors prom. It's a tradition." He answered and suddenly a thoughtful expression crossed his features. I was about to ask him if anything was the matter when I noticed how everyone was starting to dance in pairs to the music. My cheeks began to warm at the thought and as if he had heard my mind, Brendon faced me with a nervous look. "I mean, you can say now but do you wanna, like, dance?" His voice quavered audibly as he regarded me.

My heart constricted with surprise and maybe a tiny bit of giddiness at his question. Biting my lower lip, I didn't even stop to think when I nodded and took his hand. "I'd love to." I said, smiling.

And there was a small spark in his brown eyes that didn't dull as we wove through the crowd, slow-dancing, and I was sure he felt the same way I did inside. Warm and breathless with that happy rush in our veins.

It was beautiful, and it was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> click [here/a> for the song they danced to!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZTpLvsYYHw)

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: this was my very first work on **frnklyiero** on wattpad and, if i'm going to be completely honest, it grew to become the work i am least proud of. nevertheless, i am grateful for the support i have received from it and the readers i gained from it.


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